


Beautiful Bastard (English Version)

by ashtobone



Series: Beautiful Bastard (English Version) [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Adaptation, Boss/Employee Relationship, Bottom Louis, Enemies, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, POV First Person, POV Harry Styles, POV Louis Tomlinson, Power Bottom Louis Tomlinson, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 68,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25670434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashtobone/pseuds/ashtobone
Summary: Louis Tomlinson has only one problem: his boss, Harry Styles. He is demanding, insensitive, inconsiderate — and completely irresistible. A beautiful bastard.Styles has just returned from France to take on an important role in his family's marketing company. But what he couldn't imagine was that the person who helped him while he was abroad was this sweet, beautiful, provocative and totally irritating creature that he now has to see every day.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: Beautiful Bastard (English Version) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861363
Comments: 57
Kudos: 193





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Beautiful Bastard • larry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25634704) by [ashtobone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashtobone/pseuds/ashtobone). 



> “Beautiful Bastard” is an adaptation and was originally published in 2018, on Wattpad. For many reasons, I was absent and took my stories with me. I don't intend to publish them again on Wattpad, but it seems unfair to leave them in the dark and away from the people who read, liked and supported me when I first published them.
> 
> This and all my stories originally posted on Wattpad will be transferred here to the Archive and I hope they can still please some hearts as they once did.

**• Louis •**

I’ve always sought to succeed.

My mother always said that the best way to learn a profession is to watch someone exercise it.

“In order to get to the top, you need to start down there,” she told me. “Be indispensable, the person your boss cannot live without, be the right hand. Learn everything about their world.”

I did became indispensable and I definitely became the right-hand man. It turns out, in this case, the right arm often wanted to strangle that bastard's neck.

My boss: Mr. Harry Styles.

My stomach churns just thinking about it. Tall, handsome, and completely cruel. He was the biggest self-centered asshole I had ever met. I heard some colleagues in the office gossiping about his escapades and wondered if a pretty face was all he needed ... A face and THE BODY.

I have had my share of nasty men in recent years. I dated some in high school and then college. But he was the champion.

“Hello, Mr. Tomlinson!” Styles was standing by the door to my office, which served as a reception for his office. His voice was watery, but it was all wrong sweetness ... like honey that had been frozen and was now starting to crack.

After spilling water on my cell phone, getting hit on the back of my car in the middle of the avenue and having to wait for the police for almost an hour, putting up with Mr. Styles was just a cherry on the top.

I replied the usual "Good morning, Mr. Styles", hoping he would respond with his usual nod. But when I tried to pass, he murmured:

“Good Morning? Don't you mean "good afternoon", Mr. Tomlinson? What time is it in your little world?”

I stopped and looked back at his icy gaze. He was much taller than me, and, before working for him, I had never felt so small. I needed to lift my chin to look him in the eye and he was clearly satisfied with that, letting out a certain sparkle in those green eyes.

“I had a disastrous morning. Rest assured, it won't happen again.” I said, relieved that my voice came out without shaking. I've never been late before, but of course he had to make a scene the first time it happened. I walked past him, put my briefcase and coat in the closet and turned on the computer. I tried to pretend he wasn't there, standing in front of the door, watching my every move. 

“A _disastrous morning_ is a great description for what I had to go through in your absence, Tomlinson. I did your job and mine this morning. I'm sure that even with a disastrous morning, you would be able to get here at eight. There are people who start working even before breakfast.”

I lifted my head to face him as he judged me with his arms crossed over his chest — all because I was only an hour late. Then I looked away, not to stare how that dark suit wrapped his broad shoulders. In the first month we worked together, there was a convention and I made the mistake of visiting the hotel gym - bumped into him shirtless and all sweaty. He had the face that any model would like to have and the most amazing hair I have ever seen on a man. The hair of a guy who just had sex. That was what the girls downstairs called that hair and, according to them, that title was well-deserved. The image of him running the shirt over his sweaty chest was marked in my memory.

But of course, he had to ruin the moment by opening his mouth: "It's good to see that you're finally taking an interest in taking care of your body, Mr. Tomlinson."

_Son of a bitch._

“Sorry, Mr. Styles. I understand the sacrifice it was for you to use the fax and the phone. I said, letting out some poison in my voice. “Like I just said, won’t happen again.”

“Exactly, it won't.” he replied, with the pretentious smile firmly in place. If only he kept his mouth shut, he could be perfect. A piece of tape would solve the problem. “And just so you don't forget about this little incident, I would like to see the complete situation of our three projects: Schaffer, Colton and Beaumont, on my desk. Until five. And then you'll make up for this morning's lost time by simulating a presentation to Papadakis in the conference room at six.”

My eyes widened as I watched him go, slamming the office door. He knew very well that I had just started this project - which would also be my master's thesis. I still had months to prepare the slides after the contracts had been signed ... which had not happened. They hadn't even been drafted yet. Now, with everything else thrown in my lap, he wanted me to arrange a presentation in ... seven hours. Great, seven and a half hours, if I skipped lunch. I opened the project file and started working.

As people started to leave for lunch, I was glued to my table with my coffee and a packet of snacks that I took from the machine. I usually brought food from home, or went out with the other interns to have lunch, but that day, time was not my friend. I heard the door open and watched with a smile on my face as Liam Payne entered. Liam and I were part of the same internship program, but he worked in the financial sector.

“Ready for lunch?” he asked.

“I'm going to have to skip lunch. Today is being a fucking hellish day.” I said, as if to apologize, and his smile showed a little malice.

“Hellish day, or hellish boss?” he sat on the edge of my table. “I heard he was kind of angry this morning.”

I replied with a look of complicity. Liam didn't work for him, but he knew everything about Harry Styles, after all, with his well-known short fuse, he was a living legend in the office.

“Even if there were two of me, it wouldn't be possible to finish all this in time.”

“You really don't want me to bring anything?” his eyes moved toward his office. “Like, a hit man? Or some holy water?”

I had to laugh.

“No, it’s fine.”

Liam smiled and left.

* * *

I had just finished my coffee when I felt that typical annoyance of being watched. I thought maybe Liam was back, but I was wrong. I looked up and noticed Harry watching me seriously. My face quickly heated up.

“Sorry, Mr. Styles, I…”

“I need you to go to Willis's office and bring me Beaumont's market analysis” he adjusted his tie, looking at his reflection in my window. - Do you think you can do that, Tomlinson?

He was belittling me. He did this every chance he got.

_Now I have only four months to get my diploma and get out of here, I thought._ I looked up to meet his eyes.

“I'll ask Liam to bring…”

“That was not a suggestion” he interrupted me. "I want you to go get the documents." He looked at me for a moment before turning and heading back to his office. _What the hell was his fucking problem?_ Was it really necessary to slam the door like a temperamental teenager?

I grabbed my coat and started walking to the deputy office, which was in another building. When I came back, I knocked on his door, but no one answered. I tried to turn the handle. It was locked. He was probably going for a quickie with some princess while I was running around like crazy. I stuffed the manila envelope into the opening of the post office, hoping that the papers would spread everywhere and he would have to bend down to fix everything. It would be deserved. I even liked this image of him on all fours on the floor, putting the documents together. On the other hand, knowing the person, he would probably call me into that hole to clean up the mess while he watched.

* * *

Four hours later, I had finished updating the accounts, my slides were practically in order and I was almost laughing hysterically at how terrible the day had been. But I had to spend time planning the murder of the copy boy. Simple work was all I asked for. Make some copies, bind some sheets. It was supposed to be an easy thing. Get in and out. But no, it took two hours. And now I was late! 

I ran through the dark corridors of the building, which was already empty, with the presentation material almost falling under my arm, and looked at the clock. Six-twenty. Mr. Styles was going to eat me alive. I was twenty minutes late and, as I learned that morning, he hated delays. "Delay" was a word that did not exist in the _Harry Styles Cretin Dictionary_. There was also no "heart", "kindness" and "compassion". Much less "lunch break" or "thank you".

So there I was, hurrying through the empty corridors. Running to find my executioner.

_Breathe, Louis. He can smell the fear._

When I approached the conference room, I tried to calm my breathing and slowed down until I started walking again. A trail of light shone under the door. He was definitely there, waiting. I carefully tried to arrange my hair and clothes, taking the time to align the documents in my arms. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. 

“Come in.”

I entered the well-lit space. The conference room was huge. It was on the 18th floor and one wall was covered with floor-to-ceiling glass windows, offering spectacular views of the city. Dusk darkened the sky outside and skyscrapers punctuated the horizon with its lighted windows. In the center of the room was a large, heavy wooden table, and at the far end - facing me - was mr. Styles. He was sitting there, his suit jacket hanging from the back of his chair, his tie loose, his white sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing a lot of tattoos on his muscular arms, his chin resting on his fingers. His eyes seemed to penetrate mine, but he remained silent.

“I apologize, Mr. Styles.” I said, my voice still wavering because of the broken voice. “The printing took…” I stopped. Excuses would not help in this situation. Besides, I wouldn't let him blame me for anything that was beyond my control. He could go to hell. With my newfound courage, I lifted my chin and walked over to where he was.

Without looking into his eyes, I placed a copy of the presentation in front of him on the table.

“May I start?”

He didn't answer, just stared at my posture, which was trying to show courage. Which would be a lot easier if he wasn't so handsome. Instead of saying something, he gestured towards the papers, asking me to continue.

I cleared my throat and started the presentation. As I went through the various aspects of the proposal, he remained silent, staring at his copy of the text. Why was he so calm? I knew how to deal with his bad mood, but that deafening silence? It was making me nervous. I was leaning on the table, explaining a group of charts, when it happened.

“Their schedule for the first result is a little ambi…” I stopped in the middle of the sentence, with the air stuck in my throat. His hand gently pressed the part under my back and then started to descend until it stopped at the curve of my ass. In the nine months we worked together, he had never intentionally touched me.

At that time, it was definitely intentional.

The heat from his hand burned through my pants and reached the skin. Every muscle in my body tensed and I felt like my insides were turning to water. What the hell was he doing? My brain screamed for me to take that hand away and say that he would never touch me like that again. But my body had other ideas. My nipples hardened and I pressed my chin in response - other things were starting to harden too. As my heart pounded in my chest, at least half a minute passed, and neither of us said anything when his hand moved to my thigh and started to caress. Our breaths and the muffled sounds of the city below were the only sounds that hung in the air of the conference room.

“Turn around, Tomlinson.” His calm voice broke the silence and I straightened my back, eyes glued to the front. Slowly, I turned around while he ran his hand over my body. I could feel the way he reached out, touching the length of my back with his fingertips, until he pressed his thumb against the soft skin of my hips. Our eyes met and he was watching me closely.

I could see his chest rising and falling. Each breath was deeper and heavier than the last. A muscle trembled in his square chin as his thumb started to move, slowly stroking me from side to side, his eyes still glued to mine. He was waiting for me to interrupt him. I had a lot of time to push him away or even turn around and leave. But there were a lot of sensations inside me that I needed to digest before I could react. I had never felt this way, never imagined that one day I would feel this way about him. I wanted to slap him in the face ... and then pull him by the collar of his shirt and lick his neck.

“What are you thinking?” he whispered, his eyes mocking me and, at the same time, showing enormous anxiety.

“I'm still trying to find out.” It was the only answer I managed to give.


	2. Chapter 2

**• Louis •**

With those eyes still locked on mine, he started to slide his hand. His fingers ran down my thigh to the button on my pants. He opened my pants slowly and entered his long fingers through the opening. I felt the heat emanating from his palm through the fabric of my boxer. I blew out a broken breath, suddenly feeling like I was melting inside. How could I let my body react that way? I still wanted to slap him, but now, more than that, I wanted him to continue. An anguished desire was focusing on my cock. He reached the top of my boxer and slid his fingers under the fabric. I felt his caress on my skin and his thumb brushed my glans before he closed his hand, squeezing me. And then I bit my lip, trying unsuccessfully to stifle my moan. When I looked at his face, beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

“Fuck” he growled almost imperceptibly. “You are _so_ hard right now” his eyes closed and he seemed to fight the same internal battle as me. I looked at his lap and could see how much he pressed against the soft fabric of his pants. Without opening his eyes, he released my member, holding the thin fabric of my boxer. He was shaking when he looked at me with a furious expression. With a quick movement, he tore the boxer, the sound of the fabric echoed through the silence of the empty room.

He pulled my pants and I felt his grip on my thighs, guiding my body against the cold table and placing me there, legs spread in front of him. I let out an involuntary moan when I felt his forefinger surrounding my entrance, threatening to penetrate me. I despised that man with all my strength, but my body betrayed me - I wanted him to continue. I hated to admit it, but he was very good at it. His touch was not that kind, loving thing I was used to. There was a man used to getting what he wanted, and it turns out that at that moment, what he wanted was me. My head dropped to the side when I propped myself up on my elbows, feeling an imminent orgasm approaching - even if it was foolish to think I could come when I was barely touched.

To my complete horror, I let out a whisper begging:

“Oh, please.”

He stopped moving, pulled his fingers back and kept his fist in front of his face. I sat up, grabbing his silk tie and pulling his mouth hard against mine. His lips were as perfect as they looked, firm and smooth. I had never been kissed by someone who clearly knew every provocative angle and movement, driving me almost completely crazy.

I bit my bottom lip as my hands quickly lowered to the waistband of his pants, where I undid the buckle and took off the belt entirely.

“You better be ready to finish what you started.”

He let out an angry growl from the back of his throat and took my shirt in his hands, ripping it open, causing the buttons to spread across the table.

Then he slid his hands down my ribs and over my chest, squeezing my hardened nipples with his thumbs. His dark look fixed on my expression the entire time. His hands were big and so rough they almost hurt me, but instead of complaining or pulling away, I pressed my body against his palms, wanting even more, and harder.

He snarled and squeezed even more with his fingers. It crossed my mind that I could be hurt all over and, for a moment of folly, I wished it were. I wanted a reminder of that feeling, of being completely sure of what my body wanted, entirely free.

He leaned over enough to bite my shoulder and then whispered:

“You're a little bitch who likes to tease, aren't you?”

Unable to get any closer, I hurried with his zipper, taking off and throwing his pants and underwear on the floor. Then I squeezed his cock tight, feeling it pulse in my hand.

The way he whispered my last name at that moment - "Tomlinson" - was supposed to send a wave of fury into me, but I felt only one thing: pure, intoxicating lust. He forced my pants down further and pushed me back over the conference table. Before I could say anything, he grabbed my heels, grabbed his cock and took a step forward, penetrating deep inside me. I couldn't even be horrified by the loud moan I made - that was better than anything.

“What's it?” He whispered through clenched teeth as his hips beat against my thighs, putting him deep and deeper. “You've never been fucked like that before, have you? You wouldn't be provoking so much if you were being fucked right.”

Who did he think he was? And why the hell was the fact that he was right excited me so much? I had never had sex anywhere other than bed, and I had never felt that way.

"I've had better," I teased.

He laughed, a quiet, mocking laugh.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

He took it off me right when I was about to come. For a moment, I thought he was going to leave me there like that, but then he grabbed my arms and pulled me off the table, pressing his lips and tongue against my mouth.

" _Look at me_ ," he repeated. And finally, as he was no longer inside me, I managed to look. Mr. Styles blinked once, slowly, with long, dark lashes closing and opening, and then said, "Ask me to make you come."

His tone didn't sound right. It almost seemed like a question. But his words were just like him: all distorted. I really wanted him to make me come. More than anything. But he was dreaming if he thought I would ask him.

I lowered my voice and looked into his eyes.

“You’re a son of a bitch, Mr. Styles.”

His smile showed that, whatever he wanted from me, he got it. I wanted to kick him between his legs, but if I did that, I would no longer have what I really wanted.

“Say _“please”_ , Tomlinson.”

“Please, fuck you.”

The next thing I felt was the cold of the window against my chest, and I groaned because of the temperature contrast between the glass and the skin. I was on fire, every part of me wanted to feel his rough touch.

“At least you're consistent,” he said in my ear before biting my shoulder. Then he kicked off my feet. “Open your legs.”

I spread my legs apart and, without hesitation, he pulled my hips back and moved closer, before shoving everything inside me again.

“Do you like the cold?”

“Yes.”

“You naughty boy. You like to show off, don't you?” he murmured, taking my ear with his teeth. “You love to know that the whole city can look up and watch you being fucked, and you are loving every minute of it while I press you against the glass.”

“Stop talking, you're ruining the mood” I replied, although he wasn't. Not even a little. His deep voice was driving me crazy.

He just laughed in my ear, probably noticing how I shivered at his words.

“Do you want them to watch you cum?”

I groaned in response, unable to form words with each thrust pressing me more and more against the window.

“Say it. Do you want to come, Tomlinson? Answer me or I'll stop and make you suck,” he said, going deeper with each thrust.

The part of me that hated him was dissolving like sugar on his tongue, and the part that wanted him was growing, fiery and demanding.

“Just say it” he leaned forward, sucked on my ear and then bit down hard. “And I promise I'll make you come.”

“Please” I said, closing my eyes to erase everything else and just feel it. “Please. Yes I want to.”

He reached out and moved his fingertips over my glans, exerting perfect pressure, at the perfect pace. I could feel his smile pressed against the back of my neck, and when he opened his mouth and bit my skin, I came. Heat spread over my back, around my hips and between my legs, throwing me back against him. My hands hit the glass and my whole body shook with the orgasm that spread through me, leaving me breathless. When it was finally over, he came out and turned me around, dipping his head to suck on my neck, my chin, my lips.

"Say thanks," he whispered.

I sank my hands into his hair and pulled hard, hoping to get some reaction from him, wondering if I was still conscious or if I had lost my mind. _What were we doing?_

He groaned, leaning on my hands and kissing my neck up and down as he pressed his erection to my belly.

“Now it's your turn to make me feel good.”

I released a hand, reached for his cock and started to move. It was heavy and long, and perfect in my hand. I wanted to say that, but not in a thousand years would I let him know how amazing he was. Instead, I pulled away from his lips and shot him a teasing look.

“I'm going to make you come so hard that you'll even forget you're the biggest son of a bitch on the planet” I growled, lowering myself through the glass. Slowly, I put his entire cock in my mouth until it touched my throat. He tightened his muscles and let out a deep groan. I looked up: he had his forehead and his palms pressed against the glass, his eyes closed tightly. He looked vulnerable, and he looked beautiful. But I was not vulnerable. He was the biggest prick on the planet and I was on my knees in front of him. It couldn't be like this.

So instead of giving him what he wanted, I got up, pulled my pants back in place and faced him. It was easier this time, without his hands touching me and making me feel things that were not his business. The seconds passed without either of them looking away.

“ _What the fuck do you think you're doing?_ ” he asked. “Kneel down and open your mouth.”

“No fucking way.”

I adjusted my shirt and left the room, praying that my shaky legs wouldn't betray me. Back in my office, I took my bag and threw the jacket over my shoulders, desperately trying to button it with my fingers that were also shaking. Mr. Styles hadn't left yet, and I hoped the elevator would arrive before I had to see him again.

I didn't even allow myself to think about what had happened, not until I left. I had let him fuck me, give me the most amazing orgasm of my life, and then left him with his pants down in the company conference room, with the worst case of a purple bag a guy could have. If it were someone else's life, I would be celebrating and laughing a lot. Too bad it wasn't.

_FUCK._

The elevator doors opened and I entered, quickly pressing the button and watching as each floor passed before my eyes. As soon as I reached the ground floor, I ran, crossing the reception. I heard the security guard say something about working late, but I just waved and walked past him in a hurry. With each step, the pain in my ass reminded me of the events of the past hour. When I got to my car, I unlocked it with the remote, opened the door and threw myself into the safety of the leather seat. I looked up and saw myself in the rearview mirror.

_What the fucking hell was that?_


	3. Chapter 3

**• Harry •**

_Damn it. I'm fucked up._

I had been staring at the ceiling since I woke up half an hour earlier. Head: a mess. Cock: hard. Well, hard again.

I made a face at the ceiling. It didn't matter how many times I hit it. After he left me the night before, it felt like the erection never ended. And although I didn't think it was possible, it was worse than the hundreds of other times that I had woken up in that state. For this time I knew what I was missing. And he hadn't even let me come.

Nine months. Nine months of morning erection, masturbation and endless fantasies about a person I didn't even want. Well, that is not completely true. I wanted it. I wanted him more than anyone else. The big problem was that I hated him too. And he hated me back. I mean, he really hated me. In all my 25 years, I had never met anyone who pissed me off as much as Louis Tomlinson.

Just his name was enough to make my dick wake up. _Damn traitor_. I looked down where the sheet formed a tent. This stupid member was to blame for getting me into that mess. I rubbed my face and sat down.

Why can't I just keep my pants on? He had done this for almost an entire year. Everything was working. I kept my distance, gave orders left and right ... hell, even I must admit that I was an asshole. But then, I just threw it all up. It took just an instant, sitting in that quiet room, with its scent enveloping me, those damn tight pants and that ass in my face. I went crazy. Before I was sure that if I owned it at least once, it would be disappointing and my desire would be over. Finally, I would have some peace. But here I was, in my bed, hard, like my last orgasm had been weeks ago. I looked at my watch: it was only four hours ago.

I took a quick shower, scrubbing hard as if I could remove any trace of it that had remained on me since the night before. It would stop, it had to stop. Harry Styles doesn't act like any excited teenager, and he certainly doesn't play with work. The last thing he needed was a needy guy to screw it up. I couldn't allow Tomlinson to have that kind of control over me. But everything was so much better before I knew what I was missing. As unpleasant as things were, they were now millions of times worse.

I was walking to my office when he came in. Because of the way he left last night - practically running out the door - I figured there were two possible scenarios waiting for me. Or he would be sending looks and glares right at me, thinking that last night meant something, that _we together_ meant something. Or he would completely fuck me. If people knew what we had done, I would not only lose my job, but I would lose everything I had ever achieved. But as much as I hated him, I couldn't imagine him doing something like that. If there was one thing he had learned about him, it was that Mr. Tomlinson was trustworthy and loyal. He could be a hateful creature, but I didn't think he could throw me to the lions. He had worked for Styles Media Group since college and there were reasons for the company to value him. Now, he had only a few months to get his MBA, and then he could have any job he wanted. He wasn't going to risk it all at all. But isn't it that he ignored me completely? He came in wearing a jacket that went to his knees - it covered everything underneath, but he did a great job showing that he was wearing damn red pants that clung to his legs like a second skin. Tight. Ah, shit ... if he was wearing those shoes, then there was a good chance of ... _No, not the suspenders_.

* * *

_Please, for God's sake, not the suspenders. I knew very well that I would not have the willpower to resist that day._

I looked at his face as he hung his coat in the closet and sat at his desk. Well, now he fucked it up, that boy really knew how to provoke.

Red pants. White shirt and damn suspenders. Everything involved that body perfectly, those curves, as if it didn't want to detach from its delicate skin. He was the bane of my existence, my heaven and hell wrapped in a delicious package.

It wasn't provocative in itself, but there was something about the way the pieces fit into his body that made me hard almost all day. And he always ruffled his hair, leaving a delicate fringe to outline his face when he wore that outfit. I wanted to grab a tuft of that hair and then fuck him hard. _God, he pissed me off._

Before he greeted me, I turned around, went into my office and slammed the door. Why did he still affect me like that? I had never let anything or anyone distract me at work, and I hated him for being the first. But part of me liked the memory of his victorious expression when he stormed out and left me speechless, practically begging him to suck me. The boy had iron courage. I smiled a little and then went back to concentrating on hating him.

Work. I would just focus on work and stop thinking about it. I walked over to my table and sat down, trying to direct my attention to anything other than the wonder that was feeling those fantastic lips enveloping me.

_This is not helping, Harry._

I opened the laptop to check my schedule for the day. My schedule ... shit. The bastard had the most updated version on his computer. I hoped I wouldn't miss any meetings, as I wouldn't call the Ice Queen there, unless it was really indispensable.

While I was analyzing a spreadsheet, someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," I said. A white envelope was thrown on my table. I looked up and saw Tomlinson staring at me with an eyebrow raised in defiance. Without explanation, he turned and left my room. I looked at the envelope and panicked. It was probably a formal letter detailing my conduct and indicating your intention to file a harassment suit at work. I expected to find a letterhead and signature below.

What I didn't expect was the receipt from an online clothing store... paid for with the company's credit card!

I quickly got up from the chair and ran after him. He was heading for the stairs. Good. We were on the 18th floor and no one but us was using the stairs. So I could yell at him as much as I wanted and no one would get in the way.

The door closed with a loud sound and his shoes echoed down the steps.

"Mr. Tomlinson, where do you think you're going?"

He kept walking, without turning or looking at me.

"We're out of coffee," he said dryly. “So, as your _secretary_ , I’ll go down to the cafeteria on the 14th floor and bring more. We cannot let you be without your precious caffeine.”

How could someone so hot be so involved? I reached him on the pavement between floors and grabbed his arm, pushing him against the wall. His eyes narrowed with anger and his teeth clenched. I waved the receipt in front of his face, looking back at him.

“What is this?”

He shook his head. 

“Look, for an egocentric know-it-all, sometimes you really are a dumb son of a bitch. What does that look like? It's a receipt!”

"I know that," I growled, as I kneaded the thing into a closed fist. So I pressed one end of the paper to his chest and felt my cock tighten when he lost his breath and his eyes widened. “Why are you buying clothes with the company card?”

"Because a prick tore my shirt," he shrugged, tilted his face closer and whispered, "And my underwear."

_Well, that sucks._

I took a deep breath in through my nose and threw the paper on the floor. So I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his, grabbing his hair and pressing it against the wall. My cock throbbed against his belly when I felt his hand grab my hair too, pulling it hard.

I rolled up his shirt and growled in his mouth when my fingers found the waistband of his pants again. I felt his tongue run over my lips as my fingertips traced a path massaging the skin just below his navel.

"Then write it down on your calendar to buy another one," I said, then pressed my tongue between his lips and into his mouth.

He groaned deeply when I wrapped my fingers around his cock. It was damp and pulsed a little. Damn. We were creating a really difficult situation. He got rid of my lips as I masturbated him, my thumb rubbing his glans vigorously.

"Take it out," he said. “I need to feel you inside me. Now.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to hide the effect his words had on me.

“Say _‘please’_ , Tomlinson.”

“Now.” He said, with even more urgency.

“So you want to be _bossy_ now?”

He gave me a look that would shrink the cock of any man less full of himself, and I laughed at the situation. Louis really had a lot of courage.

“I'm glad I'm feeling generous today.”

I quickly took off my belt and pulled my pants down, then lifted his body and penetrated it with my finger, feeling it give way slowly, before I could finally stick my cock inside it. God, he was incredible. Better than anything. It helped explain why I couldn't get it out of my head, and a small voice said that I would probably never get tired of it.

"Fuck," I murmured.

He lost his breath and I felt his muscles tighten as they enveloped me. He bit the shoulder of my coat and wrapped a leg around my body when I started to stock faster and harder, pressing him against the wall. Someone could come on the stairs and catch me fucking him, but I didn't care. I needed to get it out of my system.

He lifted his head from my shoulder and started biting me in the neck until he reached my lower lip.

"Almost," he groaned as he squeezed his leg against my hip asking to go deeper. “I'm almost coming.”

_Perfect._

I buried my face in his neck and hair to stifle my moan when I came hard and suddenly inside him, squeezing his ass with my hands. Before he could continue to rub himself against me, I took it off and set him upright on his wobbly legs.

He looked at me with anger. The staircase was filled with heavy silence.

“Are you kidding me?” He said, panting loudly. His head fell back and hit the wall with a muffled sound.

"Thanks, that was fantastic." I pulled on my pants, which were down to my knees.

“You are a son of a bitch.”

"You said that before," I murmured, looking down as I pulled the zipper. When I looked up again, he had straightened his shirt, but it still looked beautifully untidy, and part of me wanted to reach out to caress him until he came. But a larger part was more satisfied with the angry frustration in his eyes. “Do for others what you want them to do for you.”

"Too bad you're such a bad fuck," he replied calmly.

I watched him disappear down the stairs, and then I went back to my office. I tossed my body on the chair, ran my hands through my hair, and pulled his torn boxer out of the drawer on my desk. For a moment I looked at the thin fabric, holding it between my fingers, then I opened the drawer and put the piece away. I wouldn't stop thinking about the way I fucked him on that ladder, and I wouldn't stop thinking about how I fucked him last night.


	4. Chapter 4

**• Louis •**

How I managed to get down those stairs without killing myself is something I will never understand. I ran from there like I was on fire, leaving Mr. Styles alone on the steps with his jaw dropped, his clothes untidy and his hair back, as if he had suffered an attack.

Storming straight through the cafeteria on the 14th floor and skipping the top floor with one movement, I opened the metal door and leaned against the wall, panting. _What just happened? Did I fuck my boss on the stairs? I took a breath and put my hands in front of my mouth. Had I told him to do this? Oh God. What is wrong with me?_

Stunned, I dragged my body over the wall and up a few flights of stairs to the nearest bathroom. I looked quickly to make sure there was no one there, so I closed the latch on the main door. As I approached the mirror, I shivered. It felt like I had been through a centrifuge and then been put to dry. My hair was a nightmare.

I punched the sink and went over to measure the damage.

My lips were swollen, my hair was a horror movie set. My shirt was rumpled and the suspenders were twisted, dangling from my thighs.

"Oh, God," I said, panicking.

I shook my head, rubbing my face with my hands. God, I had made a huge mess. When I got to work that morning, I had a plan. I was going to go in there, throw the receipt on that pretty face and tell him to stick it up his ass. But it turns out that he was so sexy in that gray Gucci suit, and his hair all done up like he was screaming _"Sleep with me"_ , that I just lost any coherent thoughts. Pathetic. What did this guy have that made my brain jelly and made my dick completely hard?

This was not a good thing. How could I face him without imagining him naked? Okay, well, not naked in itself. Technically, I still hadn't seen him completely naked, but what I had seen was enough to give a shiver all over my body.

_Oh no. Did I just use the word "yet"?_

I could quit. I thought about it for a moment, but I didn't like the way I felt. I loved my job, and Mr. Styles might have been the biggest asshole in the world, but I had been able to handle it for nine months and - with the exception of the last 24 hours - I knew how to control it like no one else. And as much as I hated to admit it, I loved watching him work. He was an asshole because he was intensely impatient and at the same time obsessed with perfection; he expected everyone from the same standard that he maintained for himself and accepted nothing less than the best of each individual. Even though I didn't always like his methods, I had to admit that I always liked his expectation that I would work harder, better and that I would do anything to get results. He really was a genius in the marketing world, his whole family was. And that was the other thing to consider. His family. When I started out as a receptionist in college, Des Styles had been very kind to me. They all were. Harry's sister, Gemma, was another senior executive and the nicest girl I had ever met. I loved everyone there, so quitting just wasn't an option.

The biggest problem was my internship scholarship. I needed to present my experience in the real world to the JT Miller board before completing my MBA, and I wanted my thesis to be spectacular. That's why I stayed at SMG: Harry Styles offered me the Papadakis account - the multibillion-dollar contractor's marketing plan - which was bigger than any colleague's project. If I left now, four months wouldn't be enough to start somewhere else and get something decent to present ... or would it be?

No. I definitely couldn't leave Styles Media.

With that decided, I knew I needed an action plan. I needed to maintain my professional attitude and make sure that Mr. Styles and I would never, ever, fall into temptation, even if it was by far the hottest and most intense sex of my life ... I would have to be strong, even with him preventing me from coming. _Damn him._

I had a career to build and had worked ridiculously hard to get where I was. My mind and body are not guided by lust. I just needed to remember how stupid he was. He was a cheap, arrogant seducer, who thought everyone around him was an idiot.

I smiled at myself in the mirror and scanned through my collection of recent Harry Styles memories.

_"I appreciate that you made me coffee by making your own, Tomlinson, but if I wanted mud to drink, I would have buried my cup in the garden this morning."_

_"If you are going to insist on punishing the keyboard like you are hunting mice in your small town, Tomlinson, I ask you to keep the door between our rooms closed."_

_"Do you have any good reason for taking so long with drafting contracts? Is your habit of daydreaming about the farm boys taking up all your time?"_

Hell, actually, that would be easier than I thought.

Feeling a new breeze of determination, I straightened my shirt, fixed my hair and marched confidently out of the bathroom. I quickly grabbed the coffee I had picked up and headed for my office, avoiding the stairs.

I opened the door and went inside. The door to Mr. Styles was closed and there was no noise inside. Maybe he was gone. _Only if I was lucky_ . I sat in my chair and went back to work. The last thing I wanted to do was come face to face with him, but since I didn't intend to resign, at some point I would have to face the situation. When I looked at the calendar, I remembered that on Monday mr. Styles would have a presentation for the other executives. I shuddered when I realized that this meant that I would have to speak to him later that day to prepare the material. He also had a convention the following month, which meant that I would not only have to stay at the same hotel as him, but also on the plane, in the company car and at any meeting that came up. Well... there would be _no embarrassment at all._

For the next hour, I kept looking at your door from time to time. And every time I did that, my stomach started to turn. That was ridiculous! What was wrong with me? I closed the file that I was trying to read without success and put my head down in my hands the instant I heard the door open.

Mr. Styles left, without looking in my eyes. He had packed his clothes, his coat was hanging over his arm, and he had a briefcase in his hand, but his hair was still messy.

"I'm wrapping up for today," he said, strangely calm. “Cancel any appointments and make the necessary adjustments.”

"Mr. Styles," I said, making him stop with his hand on the doorknob, "please don't forget that you have a presentation to the executive committee on Monday at ten," I said, with his back to me . He stood like a statue, his muscles tense. “If you rather, I can prepare the spreadsheets, portfolios and slides in the conference room at half past nine.”

Okay, I was actually enjoying this. There was nothing in his posture that said "I'm comfortable". He nodded briefly and started to leave when I stopped him again.

“And, Mr. Styles?” I added softly. “I need your signature on these expense reports before you leave.”

His shoulders fell and he exhaled hard. He turned on his heel to head over to my table and, still not meeting my eyes, bent down and scanned the papers, looking for the place of the signatures. I put a pen on the table.

“Please, sign on the line, sir.”

He hated to hear an order to do something he was already doing, and I had to contain a laugh. Picking up the pen angrily, he slowly raised his chin, bringing his green eyes to the same level as mine. We stared at each other for an eternity, without either looking away. For a brief moment, I felt an overwhelming urge to lean over, suck on his bottom lip and beg him to touch me.

"Don't go through my calls," he said sharply, quickly signing the last page and tossing the pen on my table. “If an emergency happens, call Gemma.”

"Bastard," I mumbled to myself as he disappeared.

* * *

To say that my weekend was rubbish would be an understatement. I barely ate, barely slept, and the little sleep I had was interrupted by my naked boss's fantasies above, below, behind me. I almost wanted to go back to school just to have something to distract myself with.

I woke up on a frustrated and moody Saturday morning, but I managed to concentrate and take care of the house and shopping. However, on Sunday morning, I was not so lucky. I woke up with a start, gasping and shaking, my whole body sweaty and writhing amid the cotton sheets. I had had a dream so intense that I even reached an orgasm: mr. Styles and I were in the conference room again, but this time completely naked. He was lying on his back and I was riding him, my body sliding back and forth, up and down his dick. He touched me completely: beside my face, on my neck, on my chest, until I reached my hips, where he guided my movements. I shattered when our eyes met.

"Shit," I growled when I jumped out of bed. This was rapidly going from bad to worse. Who knew that working for an idiot would result in being fucked against a cold window at work and still enjoying it?

I turned on the shower, and while I waited for the water to warm up, my thoughts began to drift again. I wanted to see him looking up in the middle of my legs, I wanted to see his expression as he climbed up on me, he got inside and felt how much I wanted him. I longed to hear his voice saying my name when he came.

My heart sank in my chest. Fantasizing about him was a trip back to the land of trouble. I was about to get my diploma. He was an executive. He had nothing to lose, while I had everything.

I showered and got ready quickly for my lunch with Liam and Niall. Liam and I saw each other at work every day, but Niall, my best friend since high school, was harder to find. He was a buyer at Gucci and filled my closet with samples and leftovers from settlement. Thanks to him and his discounts, I owned some of the most beautiful clothes that money could buy. I still paid dearly for them, but it was worth it. I had a good salary at Styles Media, and my scholarship covered all the costs of education, but I still couldn't spend £ 1900 on a coat without then wanting to commit suicide. Sometimes I wonder if Desmond pays me so well because he knows that I am the only one who can handle his son. Ah, if he only knew…

I decided it would be a bad idea to talk to the boys about what was going on. I mean, Liam works for Gemma Styles and runs into Harry all the time. There was no way I could ask him to keep that kind of secret. Niall, on the other hand, would kick my ass. For almost a year he listened to my complaints about how stupid he was, and he sure as hell wouldn't be happy to know that we were having sex.

Two hours later, I was sitting with my two best friends, drinking a splash of champagne and fruit on the patio of our favorite restaurant, talking about men, clothes and work.

“So, how's work?” Niall asked, between a mouthful and another in his fruit tart. “Is that asshole of your boss still pissing you off, Lou?”

"Oh, that wonderful bastard," Liam sighed, and I kept looking at my champagne splash. He put a grape in his mouth and started to say: “God, you need to see him, Niall. That's the most perfect nickname I've ever heard. He's a god. Really. There's nothing wrong with him, physically. The perfect face, body, clothes, hair ... Oh, God, the hair. He has that kind of hair that looks carefully tousled, ”he said, gesturing in his own head. “Like he just had sex with someone.”

I rolled my eyes. I didn't need to be reminded of that hair.

"But ... I don't know what Lou told you ... he's awful," continued Liam, becoming more and more serious. “I mean, after fifteen minutes of conversation, I wanted to puncture all the tires on his car. He's the biggest idiot I've ever met.”

I almost choked on a piece of pineapple. If Liam knew ... Really, the guy was blessed when it came to anatomy. It was unfair to condemn him for that.

“But why is he such a jerk?”

"You'll know ..." Liam said, and then blinked as if trying to understand the reasons. “Perhaps childhood was difficult.”

“Have you _seen_ his family?” I asked, skeptically. “They even seem to have come out of a commercial as perfect as they are.”

"It's true," he acknowledged. “Maybe it's some kind of defense mechanism. Like, he can be cruel like that because he feels like he has to work harder than anyone to prove that he’s not just a pretty face who got a headship because he was the son of one of the big guys.”

“There is no reason behind this. He thinks that everyone should care and work as much as he does, but most people don't think so. And that irritates him.”

“Are you defending him, Louis?!” Liam asked with a surprised smile on his face.

“Definitely not.”

I realized that Niall's blue eyes were staring at me and narrowed in accusing silence. I had complained a lot about my boss to him in the past few months, but maybe I "forgot" to mention the fact that he was beautiful.

“Tommo, is your boss hot? Were you hiding this from me?” he asked.

“He is handsome, but his personality is very difficult to bear” I tried to seem as indifferent as possible. Niall knew how to read all my thoughts.

"Well," he said, shrugging his shoulders and taking a long sip of his beat, "maybe he is irritated because he has a small dick."

I drank the rest of my champagne while my two friends laughed non-stop.

* * *

On Monday morning, I was a nervous wreck as I entered the company building. I had made a decision: I was not going to sacrifice my job because of our lack of judgment. I wanted to end this position with a perfect presentation for the MBA examining board, and then go out and get on with my career. No more sex, no more fantasies. I could easily work - only professionally - with mr. Styles for a few more months.

Today I could take anything that Mr. Styles said, and could say everything back if necessary.

I arrived early to have time to prepare the presentation. It wasn't exactly part of my job, but Mr. Styles refused to have an exclusive assistant for this, and when he did things himself, the presentations ended up being a disaster in the field of amenities: no coffee or food, just a room full of people, perfect slides and brochures and, as always, endless work.

The building's lobby - a vast space three stories high, gleaming with polished granite on the floor and marble on the walls - was empty. When the elevator doors closed behind me, I started to prepare myself mentally, remembering all the discussions we had and the mean comments he made.

_"Type, don't write anything by hand. Your handwriting looks like that of a third grader, Tomlinson."_

_"If I wanted to hear all of your conversation with your graduation counselor, I would leave my door open and pick up a bucket of popcorn. Please speak up."_

I could do that. That asshole had chosen the wrong man to mistreat, and I wasn't going to let him intimidate me. I ran my hand over the curves of my ass and smiled determinedly. As I expected, the office was still empty when I arrived. I gathered everything that would be needed for the presentation and headed for the conference room. I tried to ignore the images that popped into my mind when I saw the big windows and the huge table.

_Stop it, body. Brain, do something._

Looking around the sunny room, I prepared the files and the laptop on the table and helped the staff who served the food to set up breakfast by the back wall.

Twenty minutes later, the proposals were triggered, the projector was ready and so were the drinks. With time left, I ended up approaching the windows. I reached out and touched the smooth glass, overwhelmed by the memory of the sensations: the warmth of his body against my back, the coldness of the glass against my chest and the animalistic sound of his voice in my ear.

"Just say it. And I promise I'll make you come."

I closed my eyes and leaned over, pressing my palms and forehead against the window, and allowed the power of memories to take hold of me.

I was pulled out of my fantasies by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

“Daydreaming at work?”

"Mr. Styles," I swallowed, my mind starting to spin. Our eyes met and I was once again struck by his beauty. He broke eye contact to examine the room.

"Tomlinson," he said, sounding harsh and sharp, "I'm going to make the presentation on the fourth floor."

“What?” I asked, with irritation invading my body. “Why? We always use this room. And why did you wait until the last minute to tell me that?”

"Because I'm the boss," he roared, leaning on his closed fists on the table. “I'm the one who makes the rules, and I'm the one who decides where and when things happen. Maybe if you weren't so keen looking out the windows, you could have confirmed the details with me this morning.” My mind was flooded with images of my hands grabbing his throat. I had to exercise all the self-control I had to keep from jumping on the table and strangling him. A satisfied smile appeared on his face.

"Whatever," I said, swallowing my irritation. “No good decision seems to be made in this room, anyway.”

When I entered the other conference room, my eyes immediately met Mr. Styles. Sitting in his chair, he put his hands together in front of him as he always did. It was the perfect picture of impatience. Typical.

Then, I noticed the person next to me: Desmond Styles.

"Let me help you with that, Louis," he said, taking a pile of files from my arms so that I could easily maneuver the cart full of food.

“Thank you, sir. Styles” I gave his son and my boss a cold look.

"Louis," said the old Mr. Styles, laughing. He picked up some brochures and started distributing them to the people around the table “How many times do I need to tell you to call me Des?”

He was as handsome as his two children. The three Styles were tall and athletic, and shared the same sculpted features. Since I met him, Desmond's gray hair had turned white, but he was still one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen.

I smiled gratefully at him, sat down and said:

“How's Anne doing?”

“She is fine. Keeps asking me when you are going to have dinner with us,” he added, throwing a wink. I didn't fail to notice Harry snorting in irritation at my side.

“Please, tell her I’ve said hello!”

I heard footsteps behind me and a hand gently tugged at my ear.

“Hello child!” said Gemma Styles, smiling at me. Then he turned to speak to the rest of the room. “Sorry for the delay. I thought we were going to meet on your floor.”

I shot a malicious look out of the corner of my eye at my boss. The stack of brochures came back to me and I handed him a copy.

“Here it is, Mr. Styles.”

Without even looking at me, he grabbed the brochures and began to leaf through them. Stupid.

When I went to sit down, Gemma's delicate voice said:

“Ah, Louis, while I was up there waiting, I found this on the floor” I walked over to her and saw two old silver buttons in her hand. “Could you try to find out if someone lost? They look expensive.” I felt my face melt. I had completely forgotten about my torn shirt.

“Um... of course.”

“Gemma, can I have a look at these buttons?” Said the bastard suddenly, taking them from his sister's hands. He turned to me with a smile. “Don't you have a shirt with the same buttons?”

I looked quickly around the room; Gemma and Desmond were already absorbed in another conversation, not even realizing what was going on between us.

"No," I said, trying to sound as selfless as possible. “I don’t.”

“Are you sure?” taking my wrist, he ran his finger from my arm to the palm of my hand, where he placed the buttons and closed it. My breath caught in my throat and my heart beat fiercely against my chest.

I removed my hand quickly, as if I’ve been burned.

“I'm sure.”

“I could have sworn that the shirt you wore the other day had silver buttons. I remember why I noticed that one of them was kind of loose when you came to see me at the office.” I felt my face burn even more, if that was possible. What was he doing? Did he really want to imply that I had set him up to be alone in the conference room?

Leaning over and moving closer, his breath warm in my ear, he whispered:

“You really should be more careful.”

I tried to remain calm by pulling my hand away.

"You bastard," I replied through clenched teeth before he walked away, looking surprised. But why was he surprised, as if I were the one who had broken the rules? It was one thing to be an asshole with me, but to put my reputation at risk in front of other executives? He would hear some truths later! During the meeting, we exchanged glances, my eyes filled with anger and his eyes with uncertainty. I looked at the spreadsheets in front of me whenever possible to avoid it.

As soon as it was over, I gathered my things and ran out of there. But, as expected, he came right behind me for the elevator. We were silent as we went up to our floor.

Why was the elevator so slow, and why did someone on each floor have to decide to call it just then? People around us were talking on the phone, leafing through papers, discussing plans for lunch. The sound of the voices increased until it became a loud buzz, practically covering the expletives I said in my mind to Mr. Styles. As we passed the 11th floor, the elevator was almost full. When the door opened and three more people decided to enter, I ended up being pushed even closer to him, with my back against his chest and my ass on his... oh.

I felt the rest of his body tighten slightly and heard his mouth take a deep breath. Instead of pressing against him, I pulled away as far as I could. But he reached over and grabbed my waist, pulling my body back.

"I like to press myself against that ass," he murmured, his voice soft and warm in my ear. “Where you…”

“I'm two seconds from castrating you.”

He pulled me even closer.

“Why did you suddenly become angrier than usual?”

I turned my head and said, almost whispering:

“Because it is typical of you to make me look, in front of your father, a whore wanting to climb the career ladder.” He dropped his hand and gaped.

"No," he blinked. Then he blinked again. “What?!” Mr. Styles confused still looked good damn attractive. _Fool!_ “I was just kidding!”

“What if they heard you saying that?”

“They didn't listen.”

“But they could have.”

He genuinely didn't seem to have thought of it, and he probably didn't. It was easy for him to be joking, since he was the boss. He was the job-obsessed executive. But I was the boy who was still halfway there.

A person next to us looked in our direction and we immediately straightened up. I elbowed him in the ribs, and he pinched my ass so hard it made me lose my breath.

"I'm not going to apologize," he said quietly.

Of course not. Douchebag.

He pressed himself against me again, and I felt the size of his erection, which had grown even more, and that traitorous heat spread over my hip.

We reached the 15th floor and some people left. I reached out behind me, slid my hand between us and placed it on his cock. He exhaled a warm breath on my neck and whispered:

“Oh yeah.”

And then, I squeezed it.

“Shit. I’m sorry!” He said sharply in my ear. I let go and dropped my hand, smiling to myself. “God, I was just playing around with you.”

Sixteenth floor. The last people left in a hurry, all apparently heading for the same meeting.

As soon as the doors closed and the elevator started to move, I heard a grunt coming from behind and saw Mr. Styles quickly throws his hand at the elevator stop button. His eyes turned to me and were darker than I had ever seen. In one movement, he pressed me against the wall with his body. He walked away just long enough to give me an angry look and say:

“Don’t move.”

And even though I wanted to tell him to fuck off, my body begged me to obey whatever he said.

In the middle of the files I was carrying, he took a paper _post-it_ and pasted it on the camera lens on the ceiling. His face was only inches from mine, his breath blew hot air on my neck.

"I would never imply that you are trying to get laid to get on with your life," he exhaled, leaning over me. “You're thinking too much.”

I pushed my body away as far as I could, trying to keep my distance.

“And you're not thinking _enough_. We're talking about my career. You have all the power here. You have nothing to lose.”

"I have the power? You're the one who came leaning against my dick in the elevator. You are the one doing _this_ to me.”

I felt my expression soften; I wasn't used to seeing him showing vulnerability, not even a little.

“So don't scare me.”

After a long pause, he nodded.

The sound of the building around us filled the empty space of the elevator as we continued to stare at each other. A desire for contact began to build in me, first at the navel, then down to my cock. He leaned forward and licked my chin before covering my lips with his, and an involuntary moan vibrated in my throat when his hard cock pressed into my belly. My body started to act on instinct and my leg wrapped around his hips, pressing me against his erection, while my hands gripped his curls. He pulled away just far enough for his fingers to find the zipper on my pants. It opened at will.

"Such an angry kitten ..." he whispered. Sliding his fingers into the waistband of my pants, he looked into my eyes and slid the fabric to the floor. My skin prickled when he took my hand, turned my body and pressed my palms against the wall.

Taking a handful of my hair in his hands, he pulled my head hard to the side, exposing my neck. Hot, wet kisses ran down the back of my neck. His touch left a spark of electricity on every inch of skin he touched. He knelt behind me, grabbed my ass and bit hard, causing a sharp sigh in me before getting up again.

_Damn, how does he manage to make me feel such things?_

"Do you like it?” his fingers opened my shirt and now crawled over my nipples. “To get bitten right in that ass?”

“Maybe.”

“You're a dirty little thing.”

I let out a little squeak of surprise when I felt his hand slap the place where he had bitten, and then I groaned in pleasure. I sucked in another sharp breath as his hands gripped the thin fabric of my boxer and pulled hard.

“Expect for another charge on the card, asshole.”

He laughed darkly and pressed me against the wall again. The icy steel panels sent chills through my body, waking memories from the window that first time. He had forgotten how good it felt to feel the contrast - cold and heat, resistance and him.

"Worth every penny," he replied. His hand slid around my waist and across his belly, moving down until his fist closed, squeezing my rigid member.

The pressure of his touch caused distress, his fingers pressed and released making me want more. Moving lower, he stopped right at my entrance.

“You are pulsing. God, you must have been thinking about it all morning.”

"Fuck you," I said, losing my breath and throwing my body back when his fingers finally entered.

“Say it. Say it and I'll give you what you want” a second finger joined the first, and the sensation made me cry out.

I shook my head, but my body betrayed me again. He sounded so needy; his words were provocative and controlling, but I felt like he too was begging. I closed my eyes, trying to clear my thoughts, but it was all too much. His body clothed against my bare skin, the sound of his rough voice and the feel of his long fingers in and out left me on the brink. His other hand reached out, pinching my nipple firmly, and I groaned loudly. I was almost there.

"Tell me," he roared in my ear as he curved his long fingers inside me. “I don't want to see you all mad at me for the rest of the day.”

I gave in and finally whispered:

"I want you inside me," he let out a low, slow moan, and his forehead rested on my shoulder as he started moving faster, getting in and out. His hips supported my ass, his erection rubbed against me. "Oh, God," I groaned, as my orgasm spoke and every thought focused on the pleasure it begged to be released.

And then the rhythmic sound of our breathing and moans was interrupted by the high-pitched ring of the intercom. We were paralyzed when the perception of where we were hit us like a punch. Mr. Styles swore as he walked away from me and answered the call.

Turning around, I grabbed my pants and started to straighten up with shaking hands.

“Yes” he looked so calm. Our eyes met. “I see... No, we're fine…” He bent down and picked up my torn boxer from the floor. "No, it just stopped," he heard the person on the other end of the line, as he rubbed the fabric between his fingers. "Okay," finished the conversation and hung up.

The elevator shook and went back up. Mr. Styles looked at the boxer in his hand and then at me. Then he smiled, leaving the wall and approaching me. Placing a hand beside my head, he leaned over, running his nose along my neck, and whispered:

“Smelling you is as good as fucking.”

A small sigh escaped my throat.

"And this," he said, twirling the torn underwear in his hand, "is now mine."

The elevator finally reached our floor. The doors opened and, without even a quick glance at me, he put the torn boxer in his coat pocket and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! I've always felt like this chapter is way too big, but cutting it would kill the mood. Hope it's not a problem for anyone that's showing up to read it!


	5. Chapter 5

**• Harry •**

Panic. The feeling that washed over me as I practically ran to my office could only be described as pure panic. I couldn't believe what was going on. Alone with him in that little steel prison - his smell, his sounds, his skin - made my self-control evaporate. I was disintegrating. This man had a power over me unlike anything I had ever experienced. Finally, in the relative safety of my office, I collapsed on the couch. I stroked my hair, throwing back the mess of curls, trying to calm down and reduce my erection.

Things were going from bad to worse.

From the second he reminded me of that morning's meeting, I knew that there was no way I would be able to form any coherent thoughts, let alone make an entire presentation, not in that damn conference room. I couldn't even sit at that table. Finding him leaning against the window, deep in thought, was enough to make me hard again.

I made up some excuse for the meeting to be moved to another floor, and of course he scolded me. Why did he always have to fight with me? I made a point of reminding him who the boss was. But, as with all of our discussions, he threw it all back at me.

I was startled when I heard a loud knock outside the office. Followed by another. And one more. What the hell was going on? I got up and went to the door, opened it and found Louis throwing his folders into different piles. I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, just watching for a moment. The sight of him so angry was not improving the situation in my pants at all.

“Do you mind telling me what your problem is?”

He looked at me as if I was the devil himself.

“Are you fucking crazy?”

“Not even a little.”

"Sorry if I'm a little nervous," he said sharply, picking up a stack of folders and tossing them in a drawer.

“I'm not exactly happy with…”

"Harry!" Said my father, suddenly entering my office. “Good job at the meeting. Gemma and I just talked to Dorothy and Troy and they were…” He stopped and looked at Tomlinson, who was all tense, clenching his fists until his knuckles were white. “Louis, dear, are you okay?”

He straightened up and stretched his fingers, nodding. His face was beautifully flushed, his hair, gracefully tousled. Because of me. I swallowed and turned to look out the window.

"You don't look well," my father said, walking over to him and placing his hand on his forehead. “You are hot.” I clenched my jaw as I saw their reflection in the glass - a strange sensation came up behind my back and I felt my expression close. _Where is this coming from?_

"Actually," he said, "I'm really feeling a little weird.

“Well, you should go home. With a work schedule like yours, and having just finished the semester in college, no doubt you…”

"We have a busy day today," I said, turning to face them. "I thought about finishing Beaumont, Tomlinson," I said through clenched teeth.

My father turned his deep gaze on me.

"I'm sure you can manage on your own, Harry." Then he turned to Louis. “You can go home.”

"Thank you, Desmond." Tomlinson looked at me, raising an eyebrow in defiance. “See you tomorrow morning, Mr. Styles.”

I watched as he left and my father closed the door. He turned and looked at me. Fire flickered in his eyes.

“What's it?” I asked.

"You could be kinder to him, Harry," he came over and sat at the end of the table. “You're lucky to have him, you know?”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

“If his personality was as good as his _Power Point_ skills, we would have no problem.”

He cut me off with a heavy look.

“Your mother called and asked to remember dinner tonight. Gemma and Ashton are going to show up, with the baby.”

“I’ll be there.”

He approached the door, stopped and looked at me again.

“Don’t be late.”

“I won’t. God!” he knew very well that I am not late for anything, not even something as simple as a family dinner. Gemma, on the other hand, will be late even for the funeral itself.

Finally alone, I entered my office and collapsed in the chair. Okay, maybe I was a little nervous. I put my hand in my pocket and pulled what was left of the boxer, ready to throw in the drawer next to the other, when I noticed the label: HommeMystere. It was expensive. He had spent good money. And it piqued my curiosity. I opened the drawer to examine the other. Well, this boy took his underwear seriously. Maybe I should stop by a store and at least check how much my collection was costing him. I ran my hand through my hair and threw the boxers back, closing the drawer tightly. I was officially going crazy.

As much as I tried, I couldn't concentrate on anything all day. Even after a hearty lunch, I still couldn't get my mind off the morning's events. At three in the afternoon, I knew I had to get out of there. I walked to the elevator and grunted as I remembered the details. So I chose the stairs - only to realize later that it was an even worse mistake. I ran down the eighteen floors. Later, when I arrived at my parents' house, I felt some of the tension go away. I went into the kitchen and was immediately involved with the smell of family food and the sound of my parents' lively conversation in the dining room.

“Harry!” said my mother when I entered the room. I bent down and kissed her face, pausing for a brief moment to let her try to fix my hair. When she finally found peace, I took a large bowl she was carrying and set it on the table, stealing a carrot as payment. “Where's Gemma?” I asked, looking towards the living room.

"They haven't arrived yet," my father replied as he entered. Gemma was already known for her delays, but with a husband and daughter, they would be lucky if they ever managed to leave the house. I walked to the living room bar to prepare a dry martini for my mom.

Twenty minutes later, a chaotic sound appeared in the main hall and I headed over to greet my sister and family. A small, unsteady little body with a toothy smile fell on my knees.

“Haz!” Shouted the little girl.

I lifted Sofia up in the air and filled her face with kisses.

"God, you're pathetic," Gemma muttered as she passed me.

“And you aren’t?”

"You two should shut up if you want my opinion," added Ashton, following Gemma into the dining room.

* * *

Sofia was the family's first granddaughter and princess. As usual, she preferred to spend dinner sitting on my lap and I tried to eat doing my best to avoid her "help". I was definitely crazy about her.

"Harry, I wanted to ask you something," said my mother, handing me the bottle of wine. “Could you invite Louis to dinner next week and do your best to convince him to come?”

I grunted in response and received a quick kick in the knee from my father.

“God. Why does everyone want him so much to come here?” I asked.

My mother straightened up, showing her best expression of maternal seriousness.

“He’s alone in a new city…”

"Mother," I interrupted, "he has lived here since college. It is no longer a new city for him.”

"You're right, Harry," she replied with a rare irritation in her voice. “He came to study at college, graduated with honors, worked with your father for a few years and moved into your department, and is the best employee you ever had. And all this while attending school at night for the MBA. I think Louis is fantastic and I would like to introduce him someone.”

My fork freezed halfway to my mouth as I digested those words. Did my mom want to get Louis a boyfriend? I tried to remember all the single men we knew and had to discard them all immediately. Brad: too short. Damian: fuck with anything that moves. Scott: dumb. Well, that was weird. I felt a tightness in my chest, but I wasn't sure what it was. If I could name it, would it be ... _anger_?

Why would I be angry that my mother wanted to find someone for him? _Probably because you're sleeping with him, you dumbass_. Well, actually, "sleeping" was not exactly what we did. "Sex" was a more appropriate word. Okay, I had sex with him ... twice. But to say that I "was having sex" would imply an intention to continue doing so.

Oh, and I also touched him in the elevator and had a collection of his boxers in my drawer. _Nasty_.

I rubbed my hands over my face.

“Right. I will talk to him. But don't get too excited. It is as charming as a door, so it will not be easy to sell your fish.”

"You know," my sister added, "I think everyone here agrees that you are literally the only one who has a hard time getting along with him."

I looked around the table, frowning to see them agreeing with my stupid sister. The rest of the night consisted of more talk about how I should try to be more kind to Tomlinson, and how much everyone loved him, and how much he would like Joel, who was the son of my mom's best friend. I had completely forgotten about Joel. Okay, he was kind of reasonable. Apart from the fact that until he was fourteen, he played Barbie with his sister and that he cried when he was in the eighth grade. Louis would eat him alive.

I laughed to myself at the thought.

We also talked about the meetings we were having that week. One of the big ones, in which I would accompany my father and sister, was scheduled for Thursday afternoon. I knew that Louis had already prepared everything in advance. As much as I hated to admit it, he was always two steps ahead and had everything I needed ready for when I arrived.

I left promising that I would do my best to convince him to accept dinner, although, to be honest, I didn't even know when I was going to see him again. I had meetings all over the city and I doubted that, in the brief moments I would spend in the office, I would have anything good to say.

The next afternoon, as we crossed the avenue, I stared out the window, wondering if my day could get any worse. I hate being stuck in traffic. The office was only two blocks away and I was seriously considering getting out of the car and walking. It was after four in the afternoon and we had covered just three blocks in the last twenty minutes. Perfect. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head on the bench and remembered the meeting I just had.

Nothing in particular went wrong, quite the contrary. Customers were enthusiastic about our proposal and everything went smoothly. But it turns out that I couldn't escape my bad mood. Gemma kept reminding me every fifteen minutes that I was behaving like a temperamental teenager, and when it came time to sign contracts, I wanted to beat her up. She kept asking me what my problem was all the time and, frankly, I can't blame her. Even I had to admit that I had been a jerk for the past two days. And, coming from me, admitting that is a big thing. And, of course, Gemma had to say, at the end of the meeting, that my problem was lack of sex. If she only knew…

It had only been a day. Just a day since the elevator incident that had made me hard as a stone and with a desire to touch every inch of his skin. If someone saw the way I was acting, they would really think that I hadn't had sex in months. But no, one day without touching him was enough to make me a lunatic.

The car stopped again and I thought I was going to scream. The driver rolled down the window that separated the cab and the back seat and smiled apologetically.

“Sorry, “ Mr. Styles. I know you must be going crazy back there. Only four blocks to go, would you rather not walk?” looking out the darkened window, I noticed that we stopped right in front of a HommeMystere store. “I can park right there…”

I got out of the car before he could finish talking.

Standing on the sidewalk waiting to cross the street, I suddenly realized that I had no idea why I would go into that store. _What did you think you were going to do? Buy something or just keep torturing yourself?_

I went into the store. The floor was made of honey-colored wood, the ceiling was filled with round lamps grouped along the great hall. The dim lighting bathed the entire interior with a soft glow, illuminating the tables and shelves full of expensive lingerie.

Running my fingers over a table that was near the door, I realized that I had already caught the attention of the sales team. A tall blonde approached.

"Welcome to HommeMystere," she said, looking me up and down like a lioness admiring a juicy steak. I remembered that a woman in this business would know how much my suit had cost and would know that my cufflinks were made of pure diamond. Her eyes practically turned into dollar signs. “Can I help you find something? Perhaps a gift for the wife? Or girlfriend? Boyfriend?” She added, letting out a flirtation hinted at in her voice.

"No, thanks," I replied, suddenly feeling ridiculous for being there. “I'm just looking.”

"Well, if you change your mind, just call me," she said, winking before turning around and back behind the counter. I watched as she walked away and immediately regretted not even trying to get her phone. Shit. I was not a total scoundrel, but a beautiful woman in a lingerie store had just flirted with me and it didn't even occur to me to flirt back. _God. What was wrong with me?_

“Did you find something you liked?”

I turned around with a start at hearing a voice behind me.

_SHIT_.

Tomlinson.

I had never seen him like this before. He was dressed as always, but completely casual. He wore tight black jeans and a white tank top. His straight hair seemed to float as his bangs fell over his face, unlike his days at the office, he wore a pair of prescription glasses with black frames and looked no older than twenty.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, while his fake smile disappeared.

“That’s none of your business”

“I'm just curious. Aren't the ones you stole from me enough? Do you need to start your own collection?” he looked at me. “You don't seem like the type of guy who would use something like that.”

“No, no… I…”

“What do you do with them, exactly? Do you keep them as achievements somewhere?” He crossed his arms over his chest, making his muscles terribly visible. My eyes fell directly on the line marked on his collarbone and my cock woke up in his pants.

"God," I said, shaking my head, "Why do you have to be such a monster all the time?" I could feel the adrenaline running through my veins and my muscles getting tense while I literally trembled with desire and anger.

"I think you bring out the best in me," he said. Louis leaned forward and his chest almost touched mine. Looking around, I realized that we were getting attention from other people in the store.

"Look," I said, trying to compose myself, "how about if you calm down and lower your voice?" I knew I had to get out of there soon, before something happened. “What are you doing here, anyway? Why aren't you at work?”

He rolled his eyes.

“I've been working with you for almost a year now, so you should remember that I meet my MBA advisor every two weeks. I just left there and thought about doing some shopping. Maybe you want to put a tracking anklet on me, so you can follow me around the clock. Or maybe it's not even necessary, since you managed to find me even _without it!_ ”

I looked back at him, struggling to find something to say.

“You're always mad at me.”

_Great, Harry. Very clever._

"Come with me," he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me to the back of the store. We turned in a corner and entered a clothes-testing booth. Music was playing on the speakers above, and I was relieved to know that I wouldn't have to keep my voice down when I strangled him. He closed the big mirrored door in front of a velvet armchair and stared at me with a fierce look.

“Did you followed me here?”

“Why would I?”

“So you were just strolling through an alternative lingerie store? Is this just another of your perverted hobbies?”

“Fuck you, Tomlinson!”

“You know, I'm glad you have this big dick to make up for that dirty mouth.”

I leaned forward and whispered “I’m sure you would love my mouth too.”

Suddenly, intensity took over everything. His chest rose and fell quickly and his gaze focused on my mouth as he bit his thin lips. Slowly grabbing my tie, he pulled me close. I opened my mouth and felt his soft tongue. Now I could no longer walk away, so I ran a hand over his chin and the other in his hair. I grabbed the strands tightly and pulled on his head to better accommodate my kiss. I needed more. I needed him entirely. He groaned and I pulled harder.

“You like this.”

“God, yes.”

Upon hearing those words, I didn't care about anything else: where we were, who we were or how we felt about each other. Never in my life had I felt such strong chemistry with anyone. When we were together like that, nothing else mattered.

My hands slid down his side and I grabbed the hem of his shirt, lifting it and pulling it over his head, interrupting our kiss for just a second. Without falling behind, he pulled my coat off my shoulders and dropped it on the floor.

My thumbs circled his skin as I moved my hands to the waist of his jeans. After a quick movement, the pants also fell to the floor and Louis kicked them away. I kissed him, running down his neck until he reached his shoulders.

“God…” I groaned. Looking up, I could see his perfect body reflected in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. I had fantasized about Louis naked more times than I wanted to admit, but the reality, in broad daylight, was even better. Much better. He seemed to have every detail carved. I watched the muscles in his legs flex when he tiptoed so he could reach my neck. That look, along with the feel of his wet lips on me, made my cock press firmly against the confines of my pants. He bit my ear hard and his hands landed on the buttons on my shirt.

“I think you like a little strength too.”

I unzipped my pants and belt, tossing them on the floor next to my underwear, and then pulled Tomlinson onto the velvet chair.

A tremor ran through my body when my hands moved around his ribs and I felt him shiver. For the first time, I had a complete view of his completely naked body. Perfect. In my fantasies, I had already done everything with him: I had touched, kissed, sucked, fucked, but nothing compared to the reality of just looking at him.

His hips advanced over me, and nothing but his boxers separated us. I buried my face in his chest and his hands grabbed my hair, pulling me closer.

“Do you want to taste me?” He whispered, looking at me with icy eyes.

Then he pulled my hair hard enough to pull my head away from his skin. I couldn't think of any smart answer, no comment that would stop him talking and just fuck with me. I wanted to try his skin. He wanted more than anything he had ever wanted in his life.

“Yes.”

“Then ask politely.”

“Fuck politeness. Let me go.”

He groaned, leaning over and allowing me to suck on a perfect nipple, which made him tug on my hair again. God, that was good.

Many thoughts flew through my head. There was nothing in this world that I wanted more than to bury myself inside it, but I knew that when it was all over, I would hate both of us. Him, for weakening me, and me, for allowing lust to take over my common sense. But I also knew that it would not be possible to stop. I had become an addict, living only for the next dose. My perfectly constructed life was crumbling around me, and all I wanted to do was feel him inside.

Sliding my hands over his body, I let my fingers roam the waistband of his boxer. A shiver came over his skin and I closed my eyes as I held the fabric, trying to convince myself to stop.

"Go ahead and rip it ... you know you want to do this," he murmured in my ear and then bit my ear. Half a second later, the waistband was nothing but torn fabric in the fitting room. Grabbing his hips, I lifted him up and held the base of my dick in my other hand, then pulled him down. The sensation was so intense that I had to hold his hips in place so I wouldn't come right away. If I lost myself now, he would throw it in my face later. And I would not allow that satisfaction to him. When I felt I had control back, I started moving his body up and down. We hadn't yet been in that position - him on top, face to face - and, even though we hate to admit it, our bodies fit together perfectly. Lowering my hands to his legs, I grabbed one in each hand and wrapped my hips around them. The change in position put me even deeper inside him, and I had to bury my face in his neck so as not to let out a loud moan.

I was aware of the sounds and voices around us as people came in and out of the other dressing rooms. But thinking that we could be caught at any time just made sex even better. He groaned, arching his back, and his head fell back. I knew I had reached the right place. The way he bit his lip implied a false innocence that was driving me crazy. Once again, I looked over his shoulder at the image of the two of us in the mirror. I had never seen anything so erotic in my life. He tugged on my hair once more when he felt my fingers close around his cock and guided my mouth back to his, our tongues battling each other, matching the movement of our hips.

“You look beautiful on me, babe.” I whispered into his lips. “Turn around, you need to see something” I lifted him up and turned him over so he could see the mirror. With his back against my chest, he leaned back on me.

"Oh, God," he said. His breathing became heavy when he rested his head on my shoulder, and I wasn't sure if it was because of my dick going into him or because of the mirror image. Or both. I grabbed his hair and forced his head up. “Don't look away, I want you to see everything” I roared in his ear when he met his gaze through the mirror. “I want you to watch. And tomorrow, when you're all sore, I want you to remember who did it.”

"Stop talking," he said, but I could feel his chills and I knew he loved every word. His hands went up and reached back for my hair.

I touched every inch of his body and kissed the entire back of his shoulders. In the mirror, I could see myself going in and out of him, and as much as I didn't want those memories in my mind, I knew I would never forget that vision. Then, I moved a hand to his cock.

"Oh, shit," he whispered. “Please.”

“Like this?” I asked, pressing and circling my thumb over the wet glans.

“Yes, please, more, please, please.”

Our bodies were now covered with a thin layer of sweat, which made his hair stick slightly to his forehead. His gaze never left us as we continued to move against each other, and I knew we were very close to climax. I wanted to meet his eyes in the mirror, but then I immediately realized that it would show more than I intended. I didn't want him to see so clearly what he was doing to me. The voices around us continued, completely unaware of what was happening in that little cabin. If I didn't do something, our secret wouldn't last long. His movements intensified and his hands tightened my hair even more, so I pressed my hand against his mouth, drowning out his moans when he gushed vigorously over me.

I stifled my own moans in his shoulder and, with a few more thrusts, burst into an intense orgasm inside him. His body fell on me and I leaned against the wall.

I needed to get up. I needed to get up and get dressed, but I didn't think my wobbly legs would be able to support me. I was losing any hope that sex would become less intense, and that I could overcome my obsession.

The reason began to slowly return to my mind, along with the frustration of having once again succumbed to weakness. I took him off my lap before I bent down to reach for my underwear. When he turned and looked at me, I expected to see anger or indifference, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes. Then he looked away. We put our clothes on in silence. The changing room suddenly seemed too quiet and too small, and I could hear his every breath. Adjusting my tie, I picked up the torn boxer from the floor, putting it in my pocket. I went to open the handle, but stopped. It was as if time itself had stopped while I was discussing with myself whether or not I should look at him, touch his face and, who knows, leave a kiss on his lips.

"No," Louis's dry voice brought me out of my reverie.

I let out all the air I didn't even realize I was holding and, without looking back, I left the dressing room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> I just wanted to say I'm really sorry for not updating earlier. I had plans to put out at least two new chapters today, but some shit came up and I just couldn't. I hope I can make it up to you all tomorrow!
> 
> Also, I wanted to say thank you to everyone whos showing up, reading, subscribing - and, of course - leaving kudos! When I first came up with the idea of transfering my fics here to the Archive, I wasn't sure people would still enjoy them. For a fact, I though no one would care! So thank you guys, so much, for being lovely and super supportive! It really means the world ♥

**• Louis •**

There were 83 openings, 29 screws, 5 blades and 4 lamps in the fan hanging from the ceiling above my bed. I rolled over onto my side, certain muscles mocking me and offering undeniable proof of why I couldn't sleep.

_"I want you to watch. And tomorrow, when you're all sore, I want you to remember who did this."_

He wasn’t kidding.

Without realizing it, my hand found my chest, absently squeezing my nipple under the tank top. I closed my eyes and the touch of my own hands became his touch in my memory. His long, graceful fingers hovering like ghosts around me, his thumbs scraping his nipples, his palms touching me whole... _oh, God_. I let out a loud breath and kicked a pillow out of bed. I knew exactly where that thought would take me. He had done the same thing for three nights in a row, it had to end. Cursing, I lay down on my stomach and closed my eyes trying to sleep. Not that it worked.

I still remember the day with perfect clarity, almost a year ago, when Desmond called me into his office for a chat. I started working at Styles Media Group as his junior assistant when I was still in college. When my father died, Desmond took care of me, not as a father figure, but as an attentive and welcoming mentor who invited me to his home for dinner to monitor my mood. He said his door would always be open for me. But that particular morning when he called my office, he looked strangely formal, and to be honest, I was white with fear. In his office, he explained that his youngest son had spent the past six years in Paris, working as a marketing executive for L'Oréal. This son, Harry, was finally coming home, and in six months he would take over as head of operations at Styles Media. Desmond knew that I had been doing my MBA for a year and that I was looking for internship options that would give the practical experience I needed so badly. He insisted that I complete my internship at SMG and said that the young Mr. Styles would be more than happy to count on me.

Desmond handed me a memo that would circulate to the entire company the following week announcing the arrival of Harry Styles.

Wow. That was my only thought as I returned to my desk, watching the paper. L'Oréal's executive vice president of product marketing in Paris. The youngest executive to appear on Crain's "Forty under forty" list, published several times in the Wall Street Journal. With a double MBA from NYU-Stern School of Business and HEC Paris, where he specialized in corporate finance and global business, graduated with all honors. All this at the age of 24. My God…

What had Desmond said? _Extremely focused?_ That was an understatement. Gemma had already hinted that her brother didn't exactly share her relaxed posture, but when I showed concern, she quickly calmed me down. "He tends to be a little rough and completely tense at times, but don't worry about it, Louis. You'll know how to deal with him; you two will make a great team. I mean, come on," she said, putting down the arm around me. "How could he not love you?"

I hate to admit it now, but by the time he was about to arrive, I had already developed a crush on Harry Styles. I was extremely anxious to work with him, but I was also impressed by everything he had accomplished in his relatively short life. Looking at his pictures on the internet wasn't bad either: the guy was the real thing. We communicated by email until his arrival, and although he seemed polite enough, he was never too friendly.

When the big day came, Harry didn't show up until after the afternoon board meeting, when he would be officially introduced. I spent the whole day feeling like a nervous wreck. As a good friend, Liam went up to my floor to distract me. He sat in my chair and we were discussing Kevin Smith's films for an entire hour.

Soon, I was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down my face. I didn't realize when Liam straightened up and the office door opened, and I didn't realize that a person was now standing behind me. And although Liam tried to warn me with a gesture in his throat - the universal "shut up, you idiot" sign - I ignored him. Well, apparently, I'm an idiot.

“And then” I said, laughing and holding my belly “she said, "shit, I had to meet a guy I sucked once in high school". Then he replied, "I already served your brother too!" I let out another burst of laughter and took a step back, colliding with something hard and hot. I turned around and was horrified to see that I had just rubbed my ass on my new boss's waist.

“Mr. Styles!” I said, recognizing him by the photos. “I'm sorry!”

He didn't look friendly at all.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Liam stood up and held out his hand.

“It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Liam Payne, Gemma's assistant.” My new boss just looked at his hand, without returning the gesture, and then raised one of his perfect eyebrows.

“You mean Mrs. Styles?”

Liam's hand dropped slowly and he just looked at him, obviously bewildered. Something about his physical presence was so intimidating that he was speechless. When he recovered, he murmured:

“Well... we don't tend to be very formal around here. We use the first name. This is Louis, your assistant.”

He nodded in my direction.

“Tomlinson. You will call me Mr. Styles. And I expect you in my office in five minutes to discuss the proper conduct for the office” there was a seriousness in your voice. Then he nodded slightly to Liam. “Payne.”

After looking back at me for a moment, he turned and walked to his office, and I watched in horror at the first of his famous knock on the door.

“What an idiot!” Liam murmured between his lips.

“The hottest idiot.” I said.

Hoping to make things better, I went down and got him a cup of coffee. I even asked Gemma how her brother liked coffee - pure. When I returned, my anxious knock on the door was followed by an abrupt "in", and I had to wait a second for my hands to stop shaking.

I curved my lips in a friendly smile, trying to make a better impression this time. I opened the door and found him talking on the phone and writing furiously on a notepad. I almost lost my breath when I heard his deep, soft voice speaking impeccable French.

“Ces sera parfait. Non. Non, ce n'est pas nécessaire. Seulement quatre. Oui. Quatre. Merci, Ivan.”

He hung up the phone, but he didn't look up to greet me. As soon as I stood in front of his desk, he spoke to me in the same stern tone as before.

“In the future, Louis Tomlinson, you should leave any non-work-related conversation out of the office. We pay you to work, not to talk. Am I being clear?”

I was speechless for a moment until he raised his head, looked into my eyes and raised an eyebrow. I shook my head to get out of that trance and, at once, I realized the reality about Harry Styles: although he was even more beautiful in person than in the photos, he was nothing like I imagined. And he was nothing like his parents and sister.

"Very clear, sir," I said, as I walked around his table to put the coffee in front of him. But when I reached out, my shoe got caught on the rug and I was thrown forward. I heard loud "shit" escape from his mouth and the coffee became nothing more than a scorching stain on his expensive suit.

“Oh, my God, Mr. Styles, I'm sorry!”

I ran to the sink in his bathroom to get a towel and ran back, falling on my knees in front of him and trying to clean the stain. In my haste, and in the midst of the humiliation that I didn't think could get worse, I suddenly realized that I was rubbing the towel hard on his groin. I pulled my eyes and hands away, feeling a blush spread over my face when I caught a glimpse of the growing volume between his legs.

“You can go now, Tomlinson.”

I nodded and hurried out of his office, horrified at having made such a terrible first impression. Fortunately, I quickly proved myself after that. There were times when he even seemed impressed with me, even though he was always angry and moody. I understood that it was simply because he was an idiot, but I always wondered if there was something specific about me that made him even more stressed - In addition to the towel incident, of course.

* * *

When I got to work, I found Liam on the way to the elevator. We agreed to have lunch the following week and I said goodbye when he arrived on his floor. On the 18th, Mr. Styles was closed as usual, so I didn't know if he had arrived yet. I turned on the computer and tried to mentally prepare for the day. Lately, anxiety washed over me whenever I sat in that chair. I knew I would see him in the morning. Every Friday we reviewed the week's schedule. But I never knew what mood he would appear in.

Although his temper has worsened lately, his hesitation in front of the changing room caused a new kind of expectation, growing in the pit of my stomach. Why? I had no idea. What the hell did he mean by that?

I interrupted the thought before I could finish it.

Keep it up, Louis Tomlinson. The small part of me that still had some rationality congratulated me.

Answering a few emails, editing the Papadakis contract and researching some hotels took my mind off the situation for a while. About an hour later, the door to his office opened. When I raised my head, I met a Mr. Styles with the look of a responsible professional. His black two-button suit was impeccable, and the red silk tie perfectly complemented the look. He looked calm and relaxed. There was no trace of the wild man who had fucked me in the HommeMystere dressing room about 18 hours and 36 minutes earlier. Not that I was counting.

“Are you ready to start?”

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded and went back to his office.

Okay, so this is how it would be. Great. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but I was a little relieved that things weren't different. In the past few days everything had become more and more intense, which would cause even more damage when it was over and I had to pick up the pieces of my career. I was hoping that we could leave it behind and continue working without another disaster until I completed my MBA.

I followed him into his office and sat down. I started going through the list of appointments and meetings that needed his attention. He listened without comment, just taking notes or typing on the computer when needed.

“You have a meeting with Red Hawk Publishing scheduled for today at three. Your father and sister said they would also participate. It will probably take the rest of the day, so I cleared your schedule…” And so I continued, until eventually we got to the part I feared.

"Lastly, we have the JT Miller conference in Los Angeles next month," I said, suddenly becoming aware that I was scribbling my calendar. The pause that followed seemed to last forever, so I lifted my head to see what was going on. He was staring at me, hitting the table with a gold pen, his face completely expressionless.

“Will you accompany me?” he asked.

“Yes” my only word caused a suffocating silence in the room. I had no idea what he was thinking as we faced each other. “It is part of my internship schedule. I, ah, also think it will be good to have my presence there to, ah, help with your commitments.”

"Make all the necessary preparations," he said, in the tone of someone who ended the conversation, and returned to typing on his computer.

Thinking I had been released, I got up and started walking to the door.

“Tomlinson?”

I turned to face him, and although he didn't look back at me, he looked almost... nervous. Well, that was... different.

“My mom invited you to dinner next week.”

“Oh” I felt my face blushing. “Please say I will check my schedule” I turned again to leave the room.

“She told me to... _strongly_ encourage you to accept.”

I slowly turned around and saw that he was now staring at me, and it definitely looked uncomfortable.

“And why exactly should you do that?”

"Well," he said, before clearing his throat, "apparently she wants to introduce you to someone."

This was new. I have known the Styles family for years, and although Anne mentioned a few people, she had never actively tried to introduce me to anyone.

“Is your mom trying to get me a boyfriend?” I asked, walking back to his desk and crossing my arms over my chest.

“Apparently, yes” something in his expression did not match his uninterested response.

“Why?”

He frowned, obviously uncomfortable.

“How the hell am I supposed to know? I'm don’t go around about you with her,”he growled. “Maybe she is worried that, with your magnetic personality, you end up becoming a lonely old man in a house full of cats.”

Supporting my hands on his desk, I faced him.

“Well, maybe she should be more worried that her son ends up becoming an old bastard who spends his time accumulating underwear and following boys in lingerie stores.”

Jumping up from his chair, he leaned toward me with a furious face.

“You know, you are the greatest son of…” he was interrupted by the phone.

We faced each other fiercely, both breathing heavily. For a moment, I thought he was going to grab me and throw me on the table. In the next moment, I wished he did that. Still looking at me, he reached out and answered the phone.

"Hello," he said angrily, his eyes locked on mine. “George! Hi. Yes, I have a minute.” He sat down again and I waited a moment to find out if he would need me while talking to Mr. Papadakis. Then he raised his finger signaling me to wait and started to slide the pen on the table while just listening.

“Do you need me to stay?” I asked.

He nodded once and spoke on the phone:

"I don't think you need to be that specific at this stage, George," the low tone of his voice reverberated behind my back. “Just an overview is good enough. We need to know the scope of this proposal before we start a draft.”

I changed my position while I waited standing. He was a big self-centered man, making me stand there while he talked to a colleague, as if I were holding a tray of grapes and fanning him. Mr. Styles lifted his chin and quickly glanced at me, looking down at my thighs.

When he looked up again, his lips were slightly parted, as if he wanted to ask me something but was unable. He leaned forward and I felt his fingers sink into the flesh, over my pants.

"I see," he murmured into the phone, easing the pressure on my leg. “I think we can agree that this is a positive development.”

His eyes grew dark as they moved up my body. My heart started to beat faster. When he looked at me like that, I wanted to jump on his lap and tie him to the chair with his tie.

“No, no. Nothing so comprehensive on this point. As I said, this is just a preliminary overview.”

I approached the table and sat on the chair across from him. Mr. Styles raised an eyebrow, interested, put the pen between his teeth and bit.

A heat came up in my abdomen. My fingers ran to the buttons on my own shirt and I opened three of them, exposing my skin to the cold office air and his hungry eyes across the table.

"Yes, I agree," he said, but the voice sounded even deeper, almost hoarse. I ran my fingertips over my lips, running the skin with the exact pressure I would like him to apply to me. Nothing - and nobody - could make me feel as sexy as he did. It was as if he grabbed all my thoughts about my job, my life and my goals and said, " _This is all very good, but look at this other thing that I am offering. It will be perverted and very dangerous, but you will beg for it. You will beg for me_ ".

And if you said that out loud, he would be right.

"Yes," he said again. “I think this is the ideal way to move forward.”

_That's what you think, isn't it?_ I smiled in his direction, biting my lip. He replied with a devilish smile. My fingers came down and wrapped around my cock, squeezing it. With the other hand, I released the button and unzipped my pants and showing him how hard I was already getting.

Mr. Styles almost choked and reached for a glass of water with shaking hands.

“Okay, George. We'll take care of that when we get here. We can meet that deadline.”

I started to move my hand, masturbating slowly, thinking of his long fingers playing with the pen. I thought of those hands grabbing my hips, waist and thighs when he entered me at the lingerie store. I increased the speed, my eyes closed and my head fell back on the chair. I tried to remain silent, biting my lips when a small moan escaped my throat. I imagined his hands and strong arms, muscles tensing as he thrust hard inside me. His legs in front of my face in the conference room, firm and sculpted, trying to resist the urge to just fuck my mouth.

Those green eyes, glued to me, dark and needy.

I looked up and found those eyes exactly as I imagined them, not looking at my hand, but with their hungry expression looking at my face as I fell into the abyss, deeper and deeper. My climax was both overwhelming and frustrating: I wanted it to be his touch, not mine. At some point, the call ended, and my breathing seemed too loud in the silence of the room. He was still sitting across from me, sweat wetting his eyebrows, his hands gripping the chair tightly as if he were in front of a hurricane.

_“What are you doing to me?”_ He asked in a low voice.

I smirked, and brushed the fringe that covered my eyes.

“Actually, I think I did it just with me.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

I got up and zipped my pants up.

“If you don't need me anymore, Mr. Styles, I'm going back to work.”


	7. Chapter 7

**• Louis •**

When I came back from the bathroom, I realized that Mr. Styles had sent a text message, stating that I should meet him in the garage so we can go downtown. Thank goodness, other executives and their assistants would also be attending the Red Hawk meeting. I knew that, given our record, if I had to sit in a limo alone with that man for twenty minutes - especially after what I had just done - there would be only two possible consequences. And only one of them kept his balls intact.

The limo was waiting outside, and when I approached, our driver smiled broadly and opened the door for me.

“Hi, Louis, how's work going?”

“Full, fun, endless. How is school?” I smiled back. Stan was my favorite driver, and although he flirted a little too much, he always made me smile.

“If I could give up physics and still get my degree in biology, I would do it. Too bad you're not a scientist, or you could give me some lessons” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“If you two are finished, we have an important place to go. You can flirt with my assistant in your spare time, Stanley.” Mr. Styles had already got into the limo to wait for me, and he was staring at us when he got back inside. I smiled and rolled my eyes at Stan before entering. With the exception of Mr. Styles, the car was empty.

“Where are the others?” I asked, confused, as the car started to move.

"They are going to attend another meeting later and decided to use another car." He busied himself flipping through his papers. I couldn't help but notice the way he nervously drummed his expensive Italian shoes. I looked suspiciously. He didn't look any different. In fact, he was sexy as always. The hair was perfectly tousled as usual. When he absently raised the gold pen to his mouth, as he had done in the office, I had to adjust myself in the seat to ease my discomfort. When he looked up, the smile on the corner of his lips showed that he had caught my look of desire.

“Did you like what you saw?” he asked.

"Not here in the car," I replied, also with a suggestive smile. And just because I knew I was going to provoke him, I crossed my legs, making the fabric in my pants cling a little tighter to my legs... a little tighter than would be appropriate. Maybe he should remember who could really win that game. Irritation returned to his face in an instant. _Mission Accomplished_. The remaining eighteen and a half minutes of our twenty-minute trip were spent exchanging angry looks with each other while I pretended I wasn't fantasizing about his pretty little face dipped in the middle of my legs.

And I don't even have to mention that my mood was really bad when we arrived.

The next three hours went by in turtle steps. The other executives arrived and everyone greeted each other. A particularly beautiful woman named Lisa seemed to take an immediate interest in my boss. She was in her early thirties, with red hair, luminous black eyes and a perfect body. Of course, Mr. Styles came out with all his might, and he flirted with the redhead all afternoon. _Bastard_.

When we got back to the office at the end of the day, after an even more tense ride in the limo, I still felt that Mr. Styles wanted to say something. And if he didn't say it soon, I would end up exploding. When I wanted him to be quiet, he kept talking. But when I needed him to say something, he was speechless. I was overcome with a sense of terror and déjà-vu when we entered the almost deserted building and headed to the elevators. The instant those golden doors closed, I wished I were anywhere but at your side. Is there any lack of oxygen around here? When I looked at his reflection in the polished doors, I found it difficult to say how his mood was. He had loosened his tie and his coat was slung over his shoulder. During the meeting, he rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, and I tried not to look too much at the muscles and tattoos that were outlined under his skin. With the exception of his constantly clamped chin and downcast eyes, he seemed completely calm.

When we reached the 18th floor, I let out a big breath. It must have been the longest 42 seconds of my life. I followed Mr. Styles down the hall, trying to keep my gaze away as he entered his office. To my surprise, he didn't close the door. He always closed the door.

I quickly checked my messages and arranged some last minute details before leaving and closing the week. I don't think I've ever been in such a hurry to get out of there. Well, that is not exactly true. The last time we were alone on that floor, I had run away quickly. Damn, if there was a time not to think about it, this was it: in the middle of the empty office. Just the two of us.

Mr. Styles left his office just when I was packing my stuff - he put a white envelope on my desk and kept walking to the door without stopping. What the hell was that? Quickly opening the envelope, I saw my name on several elegant white papers. They were papers from a private account at HommeMystere, with Mr. Harry Styles as a starter.

Did he open a credit account for me?

“What is it?” I said, seething. I jumped out of my chair and asked, "Did you open a credit line for me?"

After stopping halfway and hesitating for a moment, he turned and faced me.

“After your little show today, I made a phone call and agreed that you could buy anything you... need. Of course, the bill is limitless” he said flatly, with no trace of discomfort on his face. That is why he was the master at what he did. He had an incredible ability to regain control of any situation. But did he honestly think he could control me?

"So, just to be clear," I said, shaking my head and trying to keep my appearance calm, "you made a deal to buy _underwear_ for me."

“Well, just to replace the things that I…” he stopped, possibly rethinking the answer.

“The things you’ve damaged.”

“If you don't want to, just don't use it,” he said sharply, before turning around again to leave.

“You son of a bitch” I ran to stand in front of him and, on the way, I crushed the paper in my closed fist. “Do you think this is funny? Do you think I'm just a toy that you can wear just for your enjoyment?” I didn't know who I was angrier with: for him, for thinking of me that way, or with me, for allowing this to happen.

He mocked:

“Oh, yeah. It’s absolutely hilarious.”

“Take this and shove it up your ass” I threw the paper on his chest and took my briefcase, turning and literally running to the elevator.

What a damned self-centered prick.

Logically, I knew that he had no intention of insulting me, at least I hoped not. But that? That was exactly why you shouldn't fuck your boss and do a little show for him in your office. Apparently, I missed that part of the job orientation.

“Tomlinson!” He shouted, but I ignored him and got into the elevator.

Hurry up, I said to myself as I repeatedly pressed the garage button. His face appeared just as the doors were closing. I smiled and showed the middle finger. _Very mature of you, Louis._

“Shit, shit, shit!” I shouted at the empty elevator, stamping my foot on the floor.

The elevator arrived and I walked over to my car, mumbling all the way. The garage was dimly lit and my car was one of the last on that floor, but I was too furious to think about it. I would pity any unlucky bastard who came my way at that moment. As soon as that thought occurred to me, I heard the stair door open and Mr. Styles came out and called me.

“God! Can you wait a little?” he screamed. I did not fail to notice that he was absolutely out of breath. I think running down eighteen floors does that to people.

Unlocking my car, I opened the door and tossed my briefcase in the back seat.

“What the hell do you want, Styles?”

“Damn, can you stop being angry for two seconds and just listen to me?”

“Do you think I'm some kind of _slut_?”

A hundred different emotions crossed his face - anger, shock, confusion, hatred - and I admit that I found that delicious. He opened the collar of his shirt, his hair was absolutely disheveled, and the drop of sweat running beside his chin was not helping the situation. But I was determined to remain angry. Keeping a safe distance, he shook his head.

“For fuck’s sake!” He said, looking around the garage. “Do you think I see you as _a whore_? No! That was just in case…” he stopped, trying to organize his thoughts. Then he just seemed to give up and squeezed his chin.

The anger was running so hard inside me that, before I could help it, I stepped forward and slapped his face hard. The sound echoed through the garage. With a shocked and furious look, he reached up and touched the spot where I had hit.

“You can be my boss, but you _don't_ decide how it works.” Silence stretched between us, my mind barely registering the sounds of traffic outside.

“You know” he started to speak with a somber look, taking a single step towards me, “I didn't hear you complain.”

Ah, what a _soft_ bastard.

“Against the window” another step. “In the elevator and on the stairs. On that dressing room, while you were watching me fuck you” and another one. “When you hit one in my office today, I didn't hear a single word of protest from your hot little mouth.”

I was breathing heavily and could feel the cold metal of my car through the light fabric of my shirt. He was taller, and when he leaned down, I could feel his warm breath against my hair. All I had to do was look up, and our mouths would meet.

"Well, I'm over it," I said through clenched teeth, with each breath bringing a brief moment of relief when my chest brushed his.

"Of course you did," he said, shaking his head and moving closer. His erection pressed into my belly. Then he rested his hands on the car, holding me between his arms. “Completely overcame.”

"Except... maybe..." I said, not sure if I really meant it out loud.

“Maybe just one more time?” his lips were almost touching mine.

It seemed too kind, too real.

Lifting my face, I whispered against his mouth:

“I don't want to want this. This is not good for me.”

He took a deep breath and just when I thought I was going to go crazy, he took my bottom lip and pulled me close. Roaring in my mouth, he deepened the kiss and pushed me hard against the car. Just like the last time, he reached out and grabbed my hair in a tight grip.

“God…” I groaned, wrapping a leg around his body and resting my shoe on the back of his thigh.

"I know," he exhaled heavily into my mouth. Looking down at my leg and holding my ass with his hands, he squeezed tightly and murmured:

"Get in the damn car," he said, his voice deep in his throat when he suddenly opened the door. I stared at him, trying to get reason to penetrate my foggy brain. What should I do? What I wanted? Could I just allow him to take over my body like that again? I was so upset that I even trembled. Rational thoughts were quickly leaving me when I felt his hands go around my neck and plunge into my hair.

Gripping tightly, he pulled my head towards him and met my eyes.

“Now.”

The decision was made. I wrapped his tie around my hand and pulled him into the back seat. The door closed and he wasted no time on the buttons on my shirt. I groaned when I felt his hands tearing the fabric and running over my bare skin. He laid my body on the cold leather bench, kneeling in the middle of my legs, placed his palm on my chest and slowly went down my belly to the bar in my boxer.

I pulled him closer, grabbed his shirt and slid my tongue into his mouth, groaning when his palm pressed against me. Our lips sought each other, our kisses were long and deep, gaining urgency with every inch of skin revealed. I pulled his shirt off his pants and explored the smooth skin of his ribs, the defined muscles of his hips and the soft trail of hair that begged me to descend to the navel and beyond.

Wanting to tease him back, I ran my fingers over his belt and the hard volume that was advertised under his pants.

He roared in my mouth.

“You don't know what you're doing to me.”

"Tell me what it is," I whispered back. I was using my own words against him, and I was excited just to know that the roles had been reversed. “Say and I'll give you what you want.” He groaned and bit my lip, wincing, his forehead against mine.

“I just want to fuck you hard.”

His hands were shaking when he grabbed my new boxer and, as crazy as it may seem, I wanted him to tear it up. The wild passion between us was unlike anything I had ever experienced, I didn't want him to control himself. Without a word, he pulled it out, and the pain of the fabric scraping against my skin only increased the pleasure.

I stretched out my leg and pushed him back, taking him off me. So I got up, threw him against the car seat and straddled his lap. I grabbed his shirt and opened it tightly, tearing off the buttons, which fell scattered around. I couldn't think of anything but him and that. The feeling of the air on my skin, the harsh sounds of our breathing, the warmth of kisses, the shiver and the teasing of his fingers massaging my entrance, the thought of what was to come. With frantic hands, I opened his belt and pants, and with his help I removed the garment. The tip of his cock scraped at my entrance and I closed my eyes, slowly lowering myself over him.

“Oh, God…” I groaned, the sensation of him inside me intensifying that delicious pain. I wanted that pain to fill me all the time. Lifting my hips, I started to ride him, making each movement more intense than the last. The pain of his rough fingers tightening around my waist just fueled my desire. His eyes were closed and his moans were muffled against my chest. He took my hardened nipple between his teeth. I pinched his hair and made him moan, his mouth opening around my skin.

He bit down hard on my shoulder, making me scream and pull his hair even harder. Our bodies were so synchronized that I responded to every look, touch and sound of him. I loved and hated what he made me feel at the same time. I had never been someone who lost control easily, but when he touched me like that, I just threw everything out the window, everything I was.

“Do you like to feel my teeth?” He asked, his breathing short and irregular. “Do you fantasize about where else I can bite?”

I pushed at his chest and faced him.

“You just don't know when to shut up, do you?”

He lifted me up and threw me hard against the bench. Spreading my legs, he shoved himself inside me again. My car was too small for that, but at that moment nothing could stop us. Even with my legs bent in an odd way and my arms trying to keep my head from hitting the door, space was making it almost impossible.

Kneeling in a more comfortable position, he took one of my legs and placed it over his shoulder, forcing his cock even deeper into me.

“Oh, God… yes.”

“Like that?” he lifted my other leg and placed it on the other shoulder. Stretching his arm, he grabbed the door and used it as a support to deepen his thrusts. “Is that how you like it?” the change in the angle made me gasp, while the most delicious sensations spread through my body.

“No” pushing the door with my hands, I lifted my hips to match his every move. “I like it harder.”

"Shit!" He murmured, turning his head slightly and leaving a trail of kisses on my leg. At that point, our bodies were glistening with sweat, the windows were completely fogged up, and our moans filled the quiet space of the car. The faint glow from the garage lights emphasized every outlined muscle of the artwork that hung over me. I watched with fascination as his body writhed with effort, his wet hair sticking to his forehead, his neck completely tense. Lowering his head between his outstretched arms, he closed his eyes tightly and shook his head.

I watched with fascination as his body writhed with effort, his wet hair sticking to his forehead, his neck completely tense. Lowering his head between his outstretched arms, he closed his eyes tightly and shook his head.

"Oh, God..." he gasped. “I just... I _can't_ stop.”

I leaned in to get closer, wanting to find a way to have him even deeper and completely inside me. I had never wanted to consume another body so furiously. Still, it felt like I never got close enough to feel the parts I really wanted. That was what I was thinking about when a delicious, overwhelming tension along my skin and belly crystallized in a sting so strong it made me slide my legs off his shoulders, pulling all his weight on top of me and begging for “ _please, please, please_ " again and again.

I was almost there. Almost there.

My hips circled, and his responded with difficulty, but steady, as wild on top of me as I was being beneath him.

“I'm almost there, please.”

"Everything," he growled in response, before bending down and biting my lip. “ _You can have everything. I want to give you everything_.”

I screamed when I came, my nails dug into his back and I could taste his sweat in my mouth. He swore in his deep, husky voice and, with one last, powerful thrust, flexed every muscle on top of me.

Exhausted and shaking, he collapsed, his face buried in my neck. I couldn't resist the urge to run my hands through his wet hair as we lay there panting, with his heart beating against my chest. Millions of thoughts came to mind as the minutes passed. Slowly, our breaths calmed, and I thought he was asleep when he moved his head to the side.

My sweaty body cooled instantly when he started to get dressed. I watched him for a moment before straightening up and putting on my pants, feeling a little weird. More than just physical satisfaction, having sex with him was the most fun I'd had in a long time.

But he was still a big jerk.

“I imagine you will ignore the account. Now I understand that this cannot happen again” he said, jerking me out of my own thoughts. I turned to face him. He was shrugging, eyes fixed ahead.

Moments passed before he turned to look me in the eye.

“Say something so I know you heard me.”

“Tell Anne that I accept the invitation to dinner, Mr. Styles. And get out of my car immediately.”


	8. Chapter 8

**• Harry •**

The burning in my chest was almost enough to distract me from the mess in my mind. Almost. I increased the inclination of the running machine and intensified my movements. Feet hitting the floor hard, muscles on fire, it always worked. That's how I lived my life. There was nothing I couldn't achieve if I tried my best: school, career, family, women, men. Shit.

Irritated, I shook my head and turned up the volume on the iPod, hoping it would distract me long enough to get some peace.

I should have known it wouldn't work. No matter how much I dedicated myself, it would always be there. I closed my eyes and remembered everything: my body on top of him, I felt his legs wrapping around me, sweaty, anxious, wanting to stop, but without being able to. Being inside him was the most perfect torture. It satiated the hunger I felt at the time, but when it was over, I, as an addict, was immediately consumed by the need to have more. It was scary because, in those moments with him, I would do anything he asked. And that feeling was starting to show up at times like now, when I wasn't even close to him, but I wanted to be everything he needed. I know, it's ridiculous.

Someone pulled on my earbuds and I turned towards the source of the annoyance.

“What's it?” I said, facing my sister.

"If you keep running like that, you'll end up on the ground, Haz" she replied, "What did he do this time to piss you off so much?"

“Who?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Louis!”

I felt my stomach churn with the sound of that name and turned my attention to the machine.

“Why do you think this has anything to do with him?”

“Because unlike you, little brother, I'm not an idiot.”

“Nothing is bothering me. And even if something was, why the hell it would have anything to do with him?”

Gemma laughed and shook her head.

“I never knew anyone who could bring up that kind of reaction in you. And you know why, don't you?” she turned off her mat and turned all attention to me. I would be lying if I said it wasn't a little annoying. My sister was very observant. Sometimes too observant. And if there was anything I didn't want her to look at, it was that. I kept my eyes straight ahead as I ran, trying not to meet her eyes.

“No, I don't know, but I'm feeling that you will want to explain to me.”

"Because you two are too much alike" she said, all smug.

“ _What_?!”

Several people looked at us when they heard my scream in the middle of the crowded gym. I hit the button that stopped the treadmill and turned to face it.

“How can you think that? We are nothing alike” I was sweaty, out of breath and exhausted from running more than ten miles. But at that time, the increase in my blood pressure had nothing to do with exercise.

Gemma took a long drink from her water bottle and continued to smile.

“Who do you think you’re kidding? I have never met two more similar people. In the first place…” she stopped, clearing her throat and raising one hand to dramatically tell her arguments “you are both smart, determined, work hard and are loyal. And…” she continued, pointing at me “he is a bold and daring person. In fact, he is the first person in your life who can face you and doesn't follow you like a lost puppy. You hate to know that you need this.”

Was everyone crazy? Of course, it could even be one of those things. Even I can't help admitting that he was incredibly smart. And he worked hard, I was often surprised at how much he was aware of our work. It was definitely determined, although I might describe it more as stubbornness or obsession. And, really, no one could question his loyalty. After all, he has had millions of opportunities to report me since we started our dirty game.

I stood looking at her while trying to formulate an answer.

“Well, yes, but he is also a _nasty little creature_.”

Good. Very articulate, Harry.

Getting off the treadmill, I quickly cleaned the machine and crossed the gym trying to get rid of her. She laughed behind me.

“See? I knew it was him!”

“Fuck off, Gemma.”

I started preparing for another exercise when she stopped beside me, smiling like a cat that had just caught a canary.

"Well, my job is done here," she said, rubbing her hands and looking very pleased with herself. “I think I'm going home.”

“Great. Get out of here.”

Laughing, she turned to go.

“Ah, before I forget, mom asked if you managed to convince Louis to accept the dinner invitation.”

I nodded while tying my sneakers.

“He said he’s coming.”

“Am I the only person who finds it hilarious that his mother wants to introduce Joel Cignoli to him?” that feeling in my chest came up again. Gemma and I grew up with Joel. He was a decent guy, but just thinking about the two of them together, I wanted to punch something. "I mean, Joel is really cool," she continued, "but Louis is too much for him, don't you think?" I could feel Gemma staring at me more than she should have. “But if he thinks he has a chance, good luck, right?”

I started doing sit-ups a little faster than necessary.

“See you later, Haz.”

"Get out of here," I murmured.

* * *

Sunday night, lying in bed, I reviewed the plan in my mind. I was thinking about him too much, and in a different way. I had to work hard and go a week without touching him. It would be like a detox. Seven days, I can do it. Seven days without touching him and that thing would be expelled from my system. I could finally get on with my life. But there were some precautions that I would have to take.

First, I could no longer be tempted to argue with him. For some reason, our discussions were like a sick kind of foreplay. Second: no more fantasizing about him, never again. That meant stopping reliving our sexual encounters and stop creating fantasies about new encounters - and also stop thinking about him naked or any part of his body touching any part of my body. _Enough of all this_. And, to a large extent, things seemed to be going according to plan. I was in a constant state of discomfort and the week seemed to drag on, but with the exception of a few shameless fantasies, I managed to stay in control. I did my best to keep myself busy outside the office, but during the moments we were forced to be together, I kept a constant distance and, for the most part, we treated each other with the same polite distaste as before.

But I swear he was trying to provoke me. Tomlinson seemed to get sexier every day. Something about his clothes, or something he did, or how he looked at me always threw my mind back into the gutter. I agreed with myself that there would be no more "sessions" at lunch. I had to put an end to it, and imagining him while I masturbated - hell, imagining him masturbating - wasn't going to help anything. On Monday he used his hair as he had that day, in the dressing room. Seeing him sitting across from me at a meeting, all I could think about was pulling on that hair while he sucked on me.

On Tuesday he wore very, VERY tight pants.

On Wednesday he wore a suit. This was unexpectedly worse, as I couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like to take off those pants and watch his curves, pull him up and, who knows, use that tie to tie his hands.

On Thursday, he wore a red blouse with a completely normal v-neck, but his marked collarbone screamed for me to kiss him right there. On Friday, I thought it was going to explode. I hadn't beaten one in the whole week, and because of that, I was walking around with the worst case of the purple bag that humanity has ever witnessed. As I drove to the office on Friday morning, I prayed that he would be absent from work, for medical reasons or something. But for some reason, I didn't think I would be so lucky. I was excited and in a particularly bad mood, and when I opened the office door, I almost had a heart attack. He was bent over watering the plants, wearing the damn red skinny. Every curve of his body was on display. Someone up there really hated me.

“Good morning Mr. Styles!” he said sweetly, making me stop when I passed him. Something was different. He never spoke to me with that sweetness. I looked suspiciously.

“Good morning, Tomlinson. You seem to be in an exceptionally cordial mood today. Did anyone die?”

The corner of his mouth showed a devilish smile.

“Oh no. I'm just excited for tomorrow's dinner and meeting your friend Joel. Gemma told me everything about him. I think we can have a lot in common.”

_Son of a bitch._

“Oh, right. The dinner. I had completely forgotten. Yes, you and Joel... Well, since he's a mommy's boy and you're an unbearable one, you two can find a really spectacular love connection. Changing the subject, I would love a cup of coffee if you're going to the cafeteria” I turned and walked into my office.

I suddenly thought it might not be wise to order coffee. One of these days he could put something in it. Arsenic, for example.

Before I could even sit, he knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

He put the coffee so hard that he even splashed a little on the table, which, as he knew perfectly well, was very expensive. Then he looked at me.

“Shall we do the week's agenda meeting?” he was standing in front of my table, under a ray of sunshine. The puffed breast and the nipples slightly marked by the thin shirt. Shit, I wanted to take hird hard nipple with my mouth. Was it cold there? How could he be cold when I was sweating so much?

I had to get out of there.

“No. I forgot that I have a meeting downtown this afternoon. So, I'm leaving in ten minutes and I'm not coming back. Send me the details of the agenda by e-mail” I replied quickly, heading for the safety of my chair.

"I'm not aware of any meetings outside the company today," he said skeptically.

"No, of course not," I said. “It's a personal thing.”

When he didn't respond, I took a look at his face and saw a strange expression. What was that? He obviously looked angry, but there was something else. Was he ... jealous?

"Ah," he replied, biting his lower lip. “Is it with someone I know?” he never asked that kind of detail. "I mean, just in case your father or sister needs to find you."

"Well..." I paused, trying to torture him for a moment. “These days, if someone needs to talk to me, they can call on my cell phone. Do you want anything else, Tomlinson?”

He hesitated for a moment before lifting his chin and straightening his shoulders.

“Since you won't be here, I would like to start my weekend early. Maybe do some shopping for tomorrow night.” 

“No problem. See you tomorrow” our eyes met, and the electricity in the air was so palpable that I could feel my heart racing.

"Have a good _meeting_ ," he said through clenched teeth, before leaving and closing the door.

I was relieved when I heard him go, fifteen minutes later. When I decided it was safe, I packed my things and left. I was interrupted by a man carrying a large flower arrangement.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

Looking at his papers, he looked around and said:

“I have a delivery for mr. Louis Tomlinson.”

_What a...? Who the hell would send him flowers? Was he seeing someone while we...?_ I couldn't even finish that thought.

“He went out to lunch. He'll be back in about an hour” I lied. I had to look at the card “You can let me sign the receipt and give it to him” he put the flowers on the table. Quickly signing the receipt, I tipped him and he left. For three long minutes I stood looking at the flowers, trying to convince myself to stop being a pussy and definitely not look at the card. Roses. He hated roses. I had to laugh, because whoever sent it didn't know anything about him. Even I knew he didn't like roses. I once heard him talk to Liam about an ex-boyfriend who sent a bouquet of roses. He immediately gave the flowers to someone else, as he did not like the strong perfume. In the end, my curiosity won out and I took the card out of the arrangement: _I'm excited for our dinner, Joel Cignoli_.

That strange feeling slowly spread over my chest as I crumpled the card. Removing the flowers from his table, I walked to the door, locked the lock and headed for the elevator. As soon as the doors opened, I passed a large chrome garbage can and, without thinking twice, threw away the arrangement and everything.

I didn't know what the hell was going on with me. But I knew with all certainty that those two could not go out together at all.


	9. Chapter 9

**• Harry •**

I spent most of the Saturday running by the lake, trying to get some air, keep my distance and clear my thoughts. Still, the hour-long drive to my parents' home provided enough time for the tangle of frustration to settle in my mind again: Louis, how much I hated him, how much I wanted him, the flowers Joel sent. Stretching in the car seat, I tried to let the sound of the engine soothe me. It wasn't working.

So, the fact was this: I felt possessive about him. Not in a romantic way, but in a troglodyte way, like "hit him on the head, drag him by the hair to the cave and have sex with him". As if he were my toy and I had to keep the other boys from the playground away from him. Isn't that sick? If he heard me admit it, he would cut off my ball and feed it to me. Now, the question was how to proceed. Obviously, Joel was interested. How could he not be? All he had was the information that my family passed on, and they obviously liked Louis and I'm sure they showed at least one photograph. If I only had this information, I would also be interested. But there was no way he could actually talk to him without realizing the embarrassment he is. _Unless he just wanted to bang Louis…_

The sound of leather on the steering wheel of the car being pressed by my hand told me it was better not to think about it too much.

He wouldn't have agreed to meet you at my parents' house if all he wanted was sex, would he? I thought about it. Maybe he really just wanted to get to know him better. Hell, even I have to admit that I was a little puzzled before we met face to face. Of course, it didn't last long, and he turned out to be the most annoying person I had ever met. Unfortunately for me, he was also the best fuck I had ever had.

Shit, it was better that he didn't go that far with Louis. I would not know how to hide a body in these surroundings.

I still remember the first time I saw him. My parents came to visit me at Christmas when I lived abroad, and one of my gifts was a digital picture frame. While looking at the photos with my mother, I stopped the sequence in a photo of my parents with a beautiful boy with dark hair and blue eyes.

“Who's that with you and Daddy?” I asked. My mother said that his name was Louis Tomlinson and that he worked as my father's assistant, and that he was wonderful and such. He was only twenty in the photo, but his natural beauty was overwhelming.

Over the years, his face often appeared in the photos my mother sent me; at company meetings, Christmas parties and even parties at my parents' house. His name occasionally came up when my family reported on the events of work and life in general.

Then, when I decided to return to the company, my father explained that Louis was attending Northwestern and that his scholarship required practical experience. He also said that my position would be a perfect subject for his MBA. My family loved and trusted him, and the fact that my father and sister had no reservations about his ability to handle work helped to convince me. I immediately agreed. I was a little concerned that my appreciation of his beauty might interfere with my ability to be his boss, but I quickly reassured myself, thinking that the world is full of beautiful women and handsome men and that I would be able to separate things easily.

How stupid I was.

And now I could see all the mistakes I had made in the past few months. Even on that first day, everything was heading for this. To make matters worse, it seemed that lately I couldn't have sex with anyone without thinking about him. I shivered just remembering the last time I tried.

It happened a few days before the _Window Incident_ \- that's what I called our first fuck. I needed to attend a charity event. At the office, I was amazed to see Tomlinson in an incredibly sexy blue suit that I had never seen before. The instant I found him, I wanted to throw him on the table and fuck him without mercy.

I spent that whole night with a beautiful blonde by my side, but I was totally distracted. I felt like I was reaching my limit and that it would eventually explode. Little did I know it wouldn't be long. I tried to prove to myself that he was not influencing my mind and went home with the blonde. Entering her apartment, we kissed and quickly undressed, but everything seemed strange. It's not that she wasn't hot and interesting, but when I laid her on the bed, what I saw were dark hair spread out on the pillows. When I kissed her chest, I didn't really want to feel breasts. And even when I put the condom on and positioned myself on top of her, I knew that the blonde was just a faceless body that I was using for my selfish needs. I tried to keep Louis out of my thoughts, but I was unable to avoid the forbidden image of what it would be like to have him under me. It was only by thinking about this image that I managed to come hard, quickly getting off the blonde, hating myself. Now, looking back at the incident, I was even more disgusted than at the moment it happened, for I realized that, at that moment, I had allowed him to enter my mind and remain there.

If I made it through tonight, things could get easier. I parked the car and started to say in my mind: _You can do it. You can._

“Mom?” I called, looking in every room I passed.

"I'm here, Harry," I heard her reply from the backyard.

I opened the French doors and was greeted with my mother's smile as she put the final touches on the table outside.

I bent down so she could kiss me.

“Why are we going to eat out here?”

“The night is so beautiful, I thought I could make people more comfortable here than sitting in that dining room. Do you think anyone will care?”

"Of course not," I said. “It's beautiful out here. Don’t worry.”

And it was really beautiful. The garden had a large white pergola whose beams were covered with vegetation. In the center was a large table for eight, covered with a delicate white lace tablecloth, on which was my mother's favorite crockery. Blue candles and flowers rested on small silver stands, and a steel chandelier shone above all.

“You know that even I can't keep Sofia from tearing these things off the table, right?” I put a grape in my mouth.

“Ah, she's staying with Ash's parents today. Better this way” she said. “If Sofia came today, she would end up stealing all the attention.”

_Shit_. With Sofia making faces in front of me, I would have something to distract myself from Joel.

“Tonight is all about Louis. And I'm really hopeful that he and Joel will like each other” my mom kept tidying the garden, lighting candles and making last-minute adjustments, completely oblivious to my anguish.

I was screwed. As I considered running out of there, I heard Gemma arrive - on time, _this time_.

“Where is everyone?” She shouted, her loud scandalous voice echoing through the empty house. I opened the door for my mother, we went in and found my sister in the kitchen.

“Soooo, Haz” she started, supporting her body on the counter, “are you excited for dinner tonight?”

I waited until our mother came out into the garden again and looked at her with a skeptical look.

"I think so," I said, as casual as possible. “I think mom made lemon pie. My favorite.”

“You are so involved. I just want to see when Joel starts flirting with Louis in front of everyone. It can make the night very interesting, don't you think?”

She was pulling a piece of bread out of one of the large bowls on the kitchen counter when her husband, Ashton, came in and slapped her hand.

“Do you want to drive your mother crazy by spoiling your appetite for the dinner she planned so much? Behave yourself, Gemma. And nothing to provoke or joke about Louis. You know he must be a nervous wreck. God knows he has to put up with this one enough” Ash said, pointing at me.

“What are you talking about?” I was getting tired of this Louis Tomlinson fan club. “I never did anything for him!”

"Harry," my father appeared at the door, gesturing to me. I followed him out of the kitchen and into his office. “Please behave at dinner. I know you and Louis don't get along, but we are at home, not at your job, and I hope you will treat him with respect.”

I squeezed my chin tight and nodded, thinking of all the ways I had disrespected him in the past few weeks.

While I was in the bathroom, Joel arrived, bringing a bottle of wine and some variations of his exaggerated greetings: a "You look beautiful" to my mother, a "How's the baby?" for Gemma and a solid handshake-and-hug combination for Ashton and my dad.

I waited in the hall for a while, mentally preparing for the rest of the night. We had a good friendship with Joel when we were kids and during school. I hadn't met him since I came back from Paris, but he hadn't changed much. Joel was a little shorter than me, with a slim figure, black hair and blue eyes. I think some people would consider him handsome.

“Harry!” handshake, manly hug. “Dude, how long have we not seen each other?”

“It's true, Joel. I think since high school” I replied, shaking his hand firmly “How are you?”

“I'm great. Things are going very well. You? I saw your photo in several magazines, so I think it is also going very well, isn't it?” he patted my back.

_Prick_.

I nodded slightly and forced a smile. I decided I needed more time to think, so I excused myself and went upstairs to my old room. Simply entering the door has already made me feel calmer. The room had changed little since I was eighteen. Even when I was out of the country, my parents kept it pretty much the same as it was when I entered college. Sitting on my old bed, I thought about how I would feel if Louis really got involved with Joel. He was a nice guy, and although he hated to admit it, there was definitely a chance that they would get along. But the thought of another man touching his skin made every muscle in my body contract. I remembered that moment in the car when I told him I couldn't stop. Even now, with all my tough guy pose, I don't know if I could do it.

I heard a new round of greetings and Joel's voice downstairs, so I decided it was time to get down and face reality.

When I stepped on the bottom step, I saw him. He had his back to me... and the air was gone from my lungs. He looked completely smooth. Dressed in white from head to toe. Why did it have to be white?

Our eyes met and he smiled in such a genuine and happy way that, for a second, I kinda believed it.

“Hello, Mr. Styles.”

My lips trembled with the amusement of watching him pretend that there was nothing peculiar about that meeting with my family.

"Hello, Tomlinson," I replied with a nod. Our eyes did not separate, even when my mother called everyone to the garden for pre-dinner drinks.

When Louis passed me, I turned my head and spoke in a voice low enough that only he could hear:

“Did you have a good shopping afternoon yesterday?”

His eyes met mine, with that same angelic smile as before.

“You would love to know, wouldn't you?” he passed me and I felt my whole body stiffen. In front of me, Joel leaned close to him.

“I hope you didn't bother with the flowers I sent to your office yesterday. I admit it was a little too much, but I was really excited to meet you” I felt a knot in my stomach when Joel's words tore me out of my naughty daydream.

He turned around and looked at me.

“Flowers? Did I receive flowers?”

I shrugged and shook my head.

“I left early, remember?” I started walking to the garden and went to prepare a drink, a gimlet with Belvedere vodka.

Throughout the night, I couldn't help following Louis's every move out of the corner of my eye. When dinner finally came, it was apparent that things were going relatively well between the two. He was even flirting with Joel.

"So, Louis, Mr. and Mrs. Styles told me that you were born in Doncaster?" Joel's voice interrupted another one of my fantasies (this time it was my fist hitting his face). I looked and saw Louis smiling at him.

“That's right. My mother is a dentist in a small district north of the city. I was never a big city kid. Everything seems giant to me” a small muffled laugh escaped my mouth, and his eyes darted towards me. “You thought this was funny, Mr. Styles?”

I smiled with the corners of my lips as I took a sip of my drink, watching him over the glass.

“Sorry, Tomlinson. I just think it’s fascinating that you don't like the big city, but still choose London to go to college and... do everything else.” The look in his eyes said that if the circumstances were different, I would now be naked on top of him - or lying in a pool of my own blood.

“Actually, sir. Styles” he started, showing a smile again “my mother remarried and, since my father was born here, I decided to live in London to spend more time with him. That was before he passed away” Louis looked at me for a moment and I admit that I felt a twinge of guilt in my chest. But that sting quickly disappeared when he looked back at Joel, biting his lip in an innocent way that only he could make himself look so sexy.

_Stop flirting with him._

I clenched my fists as they continued to talk. But a few minutes later, I froze. _Did I feel...?_ I smiled as I took a sip of my drink. Yes, definitely what I was feeling was his foot going up my leg under the table. Damn daring boy, insinuating himself to me while talking to a guy who, as we both knew, couldn't satisfy him. I watched his lips as they opened to receive the fork and my cock hardened when I saw his tongue slowly lick the rest of the sauce left by the fish.

“Wow, among the first in your class at Northwestern? Impressive” said Joel, who then turned and looked at me. “I bet you are happy to have such a wonderful person working hard to satisfy you, aren't you?”

Louis gasped, lifting his napkin to cover his mouth. I smiled and looked slightly at him and then back at Joel.

“Yes, it is absolutely incredible to have Mr. Tomlinson working hard for me. He always does a great job in all positions.”

“Ah, Harry. That's kind of you” said my mother, and I watched Louis's face turn red. My smile faded when I felt his foot approach the middle of my legs. Then, gently, he pressed my erection. _Fuck_. It was my turn to choke on my drink.

“Are you okay, Mr. Styles?” He asked with feigned concern and I nodded, looking angrily in his direction. He shrugged and then looked back at Joel. “So, what about you? Have you always lived in London?”

With the tip of his shoe, he continued to gently rub my cock and I tried to keep my breathing under control and my expression neutral. When Joel started telling about his childhood and our time at school, and then finally telling his success story in the profession, I watched his expression change from false interest to genuine curiosity.

_No fucking way._

I reached out with my left hand under the tablecloth and found the skin on his ankle. I noticed the small start he had when I touched him. I moved my fingers in small circles, feeling more smug every time he needed to ask Joel to repeat what he had said. But then he mentioned that he would like to have lunch with Louis sometime in the week. My hand covered the entire foot and I pressed even harder against my cock.

Louis smiled out of the corner of his mouth.

“You can lend him to me for lunch, can't you, Harry?" Asked Joel with a cheerful smile. His arm was resting behind Louis’ chair. I had to control myself a lot so as not to jump on the table and rip that arm out of there.

"Oh, and speaking of lunches, Harry," interrupted Gemma, patting my arm with her hand, "do you remember my friend, Taylor? You met her last month at my house. Twenty years old, with my height, blonde, blue eyes. Anyway, she asked for your phone. You are interested?”

I looked quickly at Louis and saw that he practically stopped breathing waiting for an answer.

“Of course. You know I prefer blondes. It could be a nice change of scenery for me.” I had to stifle a cry when he pressed his shoe against my balls. He continued to squeeze for a moment as he raised the napkin to his mouth and passed it over the corner of his lips.

"Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom," he said.

As soon as he entered the house, my entire family turned on me.

"Harry," my father said dryly, "we've already talked about this.”

I took my drink and brought it to my mouth.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Edward!” added my mother “I think you should go to apologize.”

“For what?” I asked, placing the drink on the table with a little too much force.

“ _Harry!”_ My father said firmly, making it clear that this was an order. I threw the napkin on the table and got up. I walked stiffly through the house, looking for the bathrooms, until I finally reached the third floor, where the bathroom door was closed. From outside, with my hand on the doorknob, I started a debate in my mind. If I went in there, what would happen? There was only one thing I was interested in, and it certainly wasn't apologizing. I thought about knocking on the door, but I was sure he wasn't going to ask me in. I tried to hear the sounds inside, looking for any signs of movement. Nothing. Finally, I turned the handle, and was surprised that it was not locked.

I had entered that bathroom a few times since my mother had renovated it. It was a very beautiful modern space, with a custom-made marble counter and a large mirror that covered one wall. Above a small table was a small window overlooking the garden below. He was sitting on the bench in front of the table, looking at the sky.

“Did you come here to keep acting like a jerk?” he asked.

"They sent me to see how their delicate feelings are doing." I reached back and locked the door. The click echoed in the silence of the bathroom.

He laughed and looked into my eyes in the mirror. Louis looked completely calm, but I could see his chest rising and falling; he was actually as nervous as I was.

“I can assure you that I'm very well” Then he got up and started walking towards the door. “I'm used to you acting like an idiot. But Joel looks cool. I better get down.”

I put my hand on the door and leaned over, approaching his face.

"I don't think so." My lips brushed lightly over his ear, and he shuddered at the contact. “See, he wants something that is mine, and he can't have it.”

He faced me.

“Are we in the last century by any chance? Let me through. I am not yours.”

"You might think so," I whispered, my lips hovering over the base of his neck, "but your body..." I said, running my hands around the curve of his waist and pulling the fabric of his shirt slightly out of his pants.

His eyes closed and he groaned when my fingers moved and I squeezed his cock.

“Fuck you.”

"Just ask," I said on his neck.

He let out a shaky laugh, and I pushed him against the bathroom door. Grabbing his two hands, I lifted them over his head, holding them tightly and leaning down to kiss him. I felt his resistance and shook my head, squeezing even more.

"Come on, just ask," I repeated, pressing my hard cock into his belly.

"Oh, God..." he said when he lowered his head to the side, allowing access to his neck. “We can't do that here.”

I ran my lips over all the exposed skin. Holding his two wrists with one hand, I slowly unbuttoned his shirt, still kissing every slice of skin within reach. I was rewarded when the tissue fell, revealing the goose bumps, the small marked muscles and his nipples deliciously aroused. _Shit_. Didn't this man get tired of making me almost cum in his pants right away? I ran my mouth across his chest while my free hand unzipped his pants. I would not fail to have a vision of that naked body. When the fabric fell, it revealed the image that filled each of my most naughty fantasies. When I took a nipple with my mouth, he groaned and his knees buckled slightly.

“Shhh…” I whispered against his skin.

"More," he said. “Again.”

I lifted him up and he wrapped his legs around my waist, bringing our bodies closer together. I released his hands and he immediately grabbed my hair and pulled me closer. I loved it when he did that. I pushed him against the door, but then I realized that there were too many clothes on the way.

I wanted to feel the heat of his skin against mine, I wanted to bury myself deep inside him and keep him stuck in the wall until long after everyone had gone to sleep.

He seemed to read my mind when his fingers moved and started frantically pulling my polo shirt out of his pants, pulling it over my head.

The sound of laughter went up to the bathroom through the window and I could feel his tension. A long moment passed before his eyes met mine. He was clearly trying to articulate something to say.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he said finally, shaking his head. “He's waiting for me” he tried to push me away without much effort, but I kept him locked up.

“Do you _really_ want him?” I asked, feeling a wave of possessiveness boil inside me. He continued to stare at me, but said nothing.

I put him on the floor and pulled him to the table, stopping when I was right behind him. From where we were, we had a perfect view of the garden below.

I pulled his back to my chest and brought my mouth to his ear.

“Can you see him?” I asked, my hands sliding over his torso.

"Look at him." I moved my hands down to his belly, up to his thighs. “Can he make you feel this way?” My fingers floated around his thighs and I pressed his ass against me. A severe sigh escaped my mouth when I felt that heat and I stuck my finger inside. “Can he make you squeeze like that?”

He groaned and pressed his hips back into my body.

“No…”

"Say what you want," I whispered into his shoulder.

“I... I don't know.”

"Look at him," I said, my fingers circling inside him. “You know what you want.”

“I want to feel you inside me” he didn't need to ask twice. I quickly opened and pulled down my pants, scraping my body on his ass. "Hard," he whispered.

I had never been able to be so primal and rude to anyone before, and it felt so right to him. I ran my hands over his bare skin and sliding my fingers from his arms to his hands, grabbed him and pressed against the table in front of him. He was a phenomenal sight: his back arched, his upturned ass in full view. We both groaned when I lined up and buried it deep. Bending over, I kissed his shoulder and dropped another "shhh" on his back.

More laughter came from outside. Joel was down there. Joel, who was a nice guy, but who wanted to take him from me. The image was enough to make me stock up with more intensity.

His muffled moans made me smile, and I rewarded him by increasing the pace. An unhealthy part of me was pleased to leave him speechless.

He was out of breath, his fingers seeking support, and my hard cock inside him, penetrating harder whenever he tried to make a sound, but he couldn't.

Speaking gently in his ear, I asked if he wanted to be fucked. I asked him if he liked me to swear, if he liked to see me naughty like that, pushing it hard until it made him dizzy. He babbled a yes, and when I moved faster and harder, he begged for more. The perfume bottles on the table were shaking and spilling from the force of our movements, but I couldn't find the strength to care. Grabbing his hair, I pulled it up until his back was in line with my chest.

“Do you think he can make you feel this way?”

I kept going in and out, pushing him to look out the window.

I knew I was losing myself. The walls I built to protect myself were collapsing around me, but I didn't care. I needed him to remember me when he went to sleep. I wanted him to feel my body when he closed his eyes and touched himself, to think about the way I fucked him. My free hand moved up his chest, pinching his nipple.

"No," he groaned. “Not like that” sliding my hand again, I grabbed his leg behind the knee and lifted it to the table, opening it further and allowing me to go deeper.

“Can you feel how I fit you perfectly?” I growled at his neck. “You like it so much. When I get back down there, I want you to remember that. Remember what you do to me.”

The feeling was becoming untenable and I knew I was almost there. I was more than desperate. I wanted him like a drug, and the sensation consumed all my thoughts. Taking his hand, I intertwined our fingers and moved them across his body to his cock, with both hands moving and teasing. I groaned as I felt my cock coming and going, in and out.

Are you feeling this?” I whispered in his ear.

He turned his head and stifled a groan in my neck. But it wasn't enough, and I needed him to make no noise. Taking my hand out of his hair, I gently covered his mouth and planted a kiss on his flushed face. He let out a muffled cry, possibly the sound of my name, when his body tensed and enveloped me tighter.

After his eyes closed and his lips relaxed in a satisfied sigh, I started to take what I needed: faster now, watching in the mirror the way his semi-erect member rocked with my thrusts.

The climax started to rip through my body. His hand came out of my hair and covered my mouth - I closed my eyes and let the wave take me. My last thrusts were deep and strong, and I spilled into him.

I opened my eyes and kissed his hand before I took it out of my mouth and laid my forehead on his shoulder. The voices below, who suspected nothing, kept coming to us. He laid on me for a bit and we stayed there in silence.

Slowly, he started to walk away, and I didn't like the separation. I watched as he adjusted his pants, retrieved his shirt and tried to button everything up with shaking hands. When I bent down to pull up my pants, I felt his gaze burning my bones. He was still having trouble with his shirt, so I went over, pulled his hand away and buttoned it up without our eyes meeting.

Suddenly the bathroom became very small, and we looked at each other in awkward silence. I reached for the doorknob to say something, anything, to fix the situation. How could I ask him to have sex with me, and only me, and hope that nothing else would change? Even I knew that asking for it would likely invite him to kick my balls. But the words for what I felt when I saw him with Joel were not crystallizing with the necessary speed. There was a blank in my mind. Frustrated, I opened the door. And we both stopped immediately.

There, standing in the hall, staring at us with folded arms and an accusing eyebrow raised, was Ashton.


	10. Chapter 10

**• Louis •**

The moment he opened the door and we came face to face with Ashton, I froze.

“What exactly were you two doing in there?” He asked, moving his eyes between me and Harry. A summary of everything he could have heard crossed my mind and I felt a wave of heat spread through my skin.

I glanced at Mr. Styles and he did the same, so I looked back at Ashton and shook my head.

“Nothing, we just needed to talk. That's all” I tried to be as casual as possible, but I knew that the tremor in my voice gave me away.

"Ah, I heard some stuff in there, and it certainly wasn't a conversation," he said, smiling out of the corner of his mouth.

“Don't be ridiculous, Ash. We were discussing a work issue” Styles said, trying to get past Ashton.

“In the bathroom?!”

“Yes. You sent me to look for him. This is where I found him.”

Ashton stepped aside, blocking his way.

“Do you think I'm an idiot? Everyone knows that you two don't discuss anything: you shout. So how is it? Are you two, like, dating?”

“ _No!_ ” we shouted at the same time. Our eyes met for an instant and we quickly looked away.

"So... it's just sex," he said, and it seemed that none of us could find words to counter. The tension in the hall was so heavy that I briefly considered jumping out the window. “How long?”

"Ashton..." he started, shaking his head, and for the first time I felt bad for his discomfort. I had never seen him like that. It was as if until now he had not considered that there could be consequences for that, in addition to our personal drama.

“How long, Harry? Louis?” he said, looking at us.

“I... we just…” I started talking, but saying what? How could I explain this? “We…”

“We made a mistake. This was all a mistake” Mr. Styles cut off my thoughts and I looked at his face in shock. Why did hearing that bother me so much? It had been a mistake, but hearing him say it out loud... it hurt, for some reason.

I couldn't look away when Ash started to speak.

“Mistake or not, this needs to stop now. What if it was Anne who had come up here? And Harry, _you are his boss!_ Forgot that?” He took a deep breath. “Look, you two are adults, and I don't know what's going on here, but whatever it is, don't let Des find out.”

A wave of nausea hit me as I thought about Desmond discovering this, how disappointed he would be. I couldn't take it.

"That won't be a problem," I said, avoiding Mr. Styles. “I intend to learn from my mistake. Excuse me.”

I passed them and walked up the steps, feeling anger and pain like a piece of lead in my stomach. The strength of my motivation and work ethic had always sustained me during difficult times: break-ups, my father’s death, problems with my friends. But my value for SMG was now tarnished with my insecurity. Did Mr. Styles see me differently because I was fucking him?

Now that he - _finally_ \- understood that it could be bad for him if others knew what was going on between us, would he start to question my judgments more broadly?

I was smarter than that. It was time to start acting like it.

I pulled myself together before I went out into the garden and resumed my place beside Joel.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

I turned and watched him for a moment. He was really handsome: well-combed dark hair, a kind face, and the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen. He was everything I should look for in a man. I looked in the other direction and saw mr. Styles returning to the table with Ashton, so I quickly looked away.

"I don't think I'm feeling too well," I said, looking back at Joel. “I think I'll end the night here.”

“Really?” He said, getting up to pull my chair. “Well, I'll walk you to your car.” I said goodbye to everyone, and walked into the house feeling Joel's unfamiliar touch on my back. When we got to the garage, he smiled sheepishly and took my hand.

“I really enjoyed meeting you, Louis. Can I call you sometime and maybe schedule that lunch?”

"Lend me your cell phone," I said. Part of me felt bad about doing that, after all, I had just had sex with a guy upstairs and was now passing my phone to another. But it was time to leave it all behind, and lunch with a nice guy seemed like a good start.

His smile widened when I handed the phone back, and he handed me his card. Then he took my hand and brought it to his lips.

“I'll call you on Monday. Hopefully, your flowers are still waiting for you at your table.”

"The intention is what counts," I said, smiling. “Thank you.”

He seemed so sincere, so happy for the simple possibility of meeting me again, and it occurred to me that I should be sighing or blushing. But what I really wanted to do was throw up.

“I better go.”

Joel nodded, opening the car door for me.

“Of course. I hope you feel better. Drive carefully. Good night, _Lou_.”

“Good night, Joel.”

He closed the door and I started the car. With my eyes glued ahead, I drove away from my boss's family home.

* * *

The next morning, at yoga class, I considered confessing everything to Niall. Before, I felt reasonably sure I could handle it all on my own, but after a whole night of staring at the ceiling and going completely crazy, I realized that I needed to talk to someone.

It could be with Liam, and more than anyone else he would understand the temptation that was my handsome boss. But he also worked with Gemma and I didn't want to put him in an awkward position by asking him to keep such a secret. I knew Ashton would be happy to help, but the fact that he was part of the Styles family, in addition to the things he might have heard, made me totally uncomfortable. It was in situations like this that I really wished my mom was around. Just thinking about the distance between us already caused terrible pain in my chest and tears in my eyes. Moving to this city to spend the last years of my life with my father was the best decision I have ever made, but living so far from my mother, my sisters and my friends was sometimes difficult. I knew that everything happens for a reason. I just wanted that reason to come up soon and reveal itself.

Could I tell Niall? I have to admit that I was terrified of what he would think of me. However, more than that, I was terrified of saying the words out loud to someone.

“Okay, why are you looking at me like that?” he asked. “Either you have something to say or I'm sweaty in a horrible and embarrassing way.”

I tried to say it was nothing, that he was seeing things. But I could not. The weight and pressure of the past few weeks crushed me to such an extent that, before I could control myself, my chin started to shake and I started to cry.

“That's what I thought. Come here” he offered his hand and helped me up, taking our things and leading me out of the room.

Twenty minutes, two beats of champagne and a nervous breakdown later, I watched Niall's shocked expression at our favorite restaurant. I told him everything: the torn boxers, the fact that I liked the torn boxers, the various places, the “I-hate-you-kisses”, Ashton caughting us in the act, my fault for feeling that I was betraying Desmond and Anne, Joel, the troglodytes statements of Mr. Styles and, finally, my fear of being in the middle of the most dysfunctional relationship in the history of the world, without having any control over it. When I got up I ended up meeting his gaze, I shivered. He seemed to have just seen a car accident.

“Okay, let me see if I understand, Tommo.”

I nodded and waited for him to continue.

“You’re sleeping with your boss.”

I cringed slightly.

“Well, technically…”

He raised his hand, preventing me from continuing.

“Yes, yes. I got this. And is this the same boss you call so kindly _‘beautiful bastard’_?”

I took a deep breath and nodded again.

“But you hate him.”

"Exactly," I murmured, slowly looking away from his. “I hate. I really hate him.”

“You don't want to be with him, but you can't get away.”

"My God, that sounds even worse from someone else's mouth," I groaned as I plunged my face into my hands. “I look ridiculous.”

“But what about the sex? Is it good?” he said, with a touch of humor in his voice.

“That doesn't even come close to describing what it is like, Niall. Phenomenal, intense, crazy doesn't even come close to describing.”

I rubbed my face and sighed again.

"Well," he replied thoughtfully, and then cleared his throat, "I don't think a small cock is his problem, after all..."

I let my head fall into my arms on the table.

"No. That's definitely not his problem." I looked up slightly when I heard his laughter echoing loudly and noticed some people in the restaurant looking in our direction. “Niall! This isn’t funny!”

“I have to disagree. You have to admit how crazy this is. I mean, of all the people I know, you are the last one I would imagine falling into such a situation. You are always so serious, with each step of your life carefully planned. Come on, you only had a few serious boyfriends, and with all of them you spent a long time before finally having sex. This boss of yours must really be something out of this world.”

“I know there's nothing wrong with having a purely sexual relationship with someone... I can handle it. And I know that sometimes I am very controlling, but the fact is that I feel that I need to control _myself_ when I am with him. I mean, I don't even like him, but still... I keep falling into temptation.” Niall took a sip of the beat and I could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he thought about what I said.

“What's more important to you?”

I looked back, understanding where he was getting at.

“My job. My life after that. My worth as an employee. Knowing that my contribution is important.”

“Can you feel good about these things and keep screwing him?”

I shrugged, unable to organize my thoughts

“Do not know. If I felt that things were separate, then maybe so. But our only interactions happen at work. It never happens to be just one or the other, it's always work and sex - in one.”

“So you need to find a way to stop doing that. You need to keep your distance.”

"It's not that simple," I replied, shaking my head and starting to chatter, "I work for him. It is not easy to avoid every time we are alone. It is ridiculous how many times I swore I would never have sex with him, only to have sex, hours later. On top of that, we have a conference in two weeks. In the same hotel, in the same space, all the time. With _beds_ everywhere!”

“Louis, what's wrong with you?” Asked Niall, showing surprise in his voice. “Do you want to continue with this?”

“No! Of course not!”

He looked at me suspiciously.

“I mean... I happen to be different when I'm around him. Like, I want things I never thought about before, and maybe it’s good to allow myself to want those things. But I wanted it to be someone else causing these things to me, someone nice, like Joel, for example. It is not very good to be my boss who does this to me.”

“What do you like about being a bossy boss? Like, slapping and stuff?” Niall laughed his best Irish laugh, but when I looked away, he almost choked. “Oh, my God, did he slap you?”

My eyes widened in his direction.

“Speak a little louder, Niall. I don't think the guy back there heard you” as soon as I made sure that no one was looking, I fixed some strands of hair on my forehead and continued: “Look, I know I need to stop this, but I…”

I stopped talking when I felt a chill go up over my skin. My breath caught in my throat and I slowly turned to look towards the door. It was him, looking messy, wearing a black t-shirt, jeans, the most horrible pair of boots I had ever seen, and his messy hair even sexier than normal. I turned to face Niall again, feeling all the blood drain from my face.

“What is it, Lou? It looks like you saw a ghost,” he said, reaching out to touch my hand. I swallowed hard to find my voice, so I looked at him.

“Can you see that man near the door? Tall and handsome?” He lifted his head slightly to look and I kicked his knee under the table. “Don't be so obvious! This is my boss.” His eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“What?” He choked and shook his head while looking him up and down.

“You weren't kidding, Tommo. He really is beautiful. I wouldn't get this guy out of my bed. Or car. Or fitting room. Or elevator, or…”

“Niall! You are not helping!”

“Who's the blonde?” He asked, waving at them. I turned and saw Mr. Styles being led to a table accompanied by a tall, long-legged blonde. His hand was resting on her back. A twinge of jealousy hit my chest.

"What an ass," I whispered. “After what you did yesterday? He must be kidding” before Niall could answer, his cell phone rang and he opened it and took it out of his pocket. The "Hi Shawn, my love!" he let go and told me it was his fiance, and that the call would take a while.

I looked at Mr. Styles, who was talking and laughing with the blonde. I couldn't take my eyes off that scene. He looked even more attractive in that casual mood: smiling, his eyes dancing when he laughed.

As if he could hear my thoughts, he raised his head and our eyes met. I pressed my chin and looked away, throwing the napkin on the table. I had to get out of there.

“I’ll be right back, Nialler.”

He nodded and waved absently, without stopping his conversation. I stood up and quickly passed the table where he was, avoiding looking at his face. I had just turned down the hall and found safety in the bathroom when I felt a strong hand grab my arm.

“Wait.”

That voice sent an electric shock through my body.

_Okay, Louis, you can do this. Just turn around, look him in the face and tell him to go fuck himself. He is a son of a bitch who called you a "mistake" last night and who has now shown up with some odd blonde._

Straightening my shoulders, I turned to face him. Shit. He looked even more beautiful up close. I never saw him without being perfectly groomed, but he obviously hadn't shaved in the morning and I desperately wanted to feel the scrape of his thin beard on my face.

Or on my thighs.

“What the fuck do you want?” I said angrily, letting go of my hand. You could see dark circles under your eyes. He looked tired. _Great_. If his night was as bad as mine, then I was happy.

Running his hands through his hair, he looked around, embarrassed.

“I wanted to talk to you. To explain last night.”

“What do you have to explain?” I asked, nodding at the table where the blonde was waiting. My chest hurt again. “Change of air. I understood. In fact, I'm glad to see you here this way... it helps to remind me why this thing between us is such a bad idea. I don't want to be indirectly fucking with all your other people.”

“What are you talking about?” He asked, looking back at me. “Are you talking about Emily?”

“Is that her name? Well, that you and Emily have a nice lunch, Mr. Styles” I turned to go, but he grabbed my arm again. “Let me go.”

“Why do you care?”

Our discussion started to attract the attention of the passing waiters. After a quick look around, he pulled me into the men's room and locked the door.

Amazing, another bathroom.

I pushed him away.

“What do you think you're doing? And what do you mean by asking if I care? You fucked me last night, asked how I could go out with Joel, and now you're here with another woman? I always forget that you are a big asshole. Their behavior is completely expected. I'm mad at myself” I was so angry that I felt ready to explode.

“Do you think I'm here on a romantic date?” He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “This is unbelievable. Emily is a friend. She takes care of a charitable organization that Styles Media supports. That's it. I needed to meet with her on Monday to sign some papers, but she had a last minute change on her flight and is leaving the country this afternoon. I haven't been with anyone since that window day…” He stopped to rethink his words. "Since we... you know..." he concluded, making a quick gesture between the two of us.

_What?_

We stood there, facing each other while I tried to digest his words. He hadn't slept with anyone else. Was that even possible? I knew from experience that he was a flirt. I had personally witnessed how he expanded his collection of "trophies" at work events, not to mention the stories that circulated in the office hallways. And even if it were true, none of that changed the fact that he was my boss, and this whole thing was too wrong.

“All those women and guys throwing themselves at your feet and you didn't catch anyone? Oh, I'm thrilled” I took a step to the door.

"It's not that hard to believe," he growled, and I could feel his eyes burning on my back.

“You want to know? Does not matter. It was just a mistake, wasn't it?”

“Look, this is what I wanted to talk about.”

He came over and I felt his perfume envelop me - it smelled like honey and herbs. I suddenly felt like I was trapped and there was not enough oxygen in that little bathroom. I needed to leave, immediately. What had Niall said a few minutes ago? That I needed to keep my distance? Good advice. I liked the boxer I was wearing and really didn't want it to end up in tatters in his pocket. Okay, that was a lie.

“Will you go out with Joel again?” He asked behind me. My hand was already on the handle. All I had to do was spin and be free. But I froze and stared at the door for an eternity.

“Does it matter?”

"I thought I made it clear last night," he said, and I felt his breath warm in my hair.

“Well, a lot of things have been said last night.”

His fingers moved up my arm and slid the tank top to the side.

"I didn't mean that everything was a mistake," he whispered against my skin. “I just panicked.”

"That doesn't mean it's not true." My body instinctively leaned forward looking for his and my head drooped slightly, making it easier to access. “We both know that.”

"Even so, I shouldn't have said that." He stroked my hair and his soft lips straddled my back. “Turn around now.”

Three words. How was it possible that two simple words could make me question everything? It was one thing for him to press me against the wall and grab me, but now he was leaving the whole decision up to me. Biting my lip hard, I tried to force myself to turn the handle. My hand even shook, before falling sideways, defeated.

I turned and met his eyes.

His hand landed on my face, his thumb caressed my lips. Our eyes locked on each other and, just when I thought I couldn't stand to wait another second, he pulled me up and kissed me. My body gave up fighting and I gave myself up completely. My wallet fell to the floor and my hands plunged into his hair, pulling him even closer. He pushed me to the wall and ran his hands over my body, lifting me slightly. His hands went inside my pants and he squeezed my ass.

“Shit. What are you using?” He growled at my neck and his palms slid up and down the fabric. Standing up all the way, he wrapped my legs around his waist and pressed me even closer to the wall. He groaned when I bit his ear.

Pulling down one side of the tank, he took one of my nipples in his mouth. My head fell back and hit the wall when I felt the scrape of his stubble on my chest. A high-pitched sound brought me out of that trance and I heard him curse. It was my cell phone. Placing me on the floor, he pulled away and his face showed its usual irritation again. I quickly straightened up my clothes and took out my wallet, gritting my teeth when I saw the photo on the phone screen.

"Niall," I said, completely out of breath.

“Louis! Are you by any chance in the bathroom screwing that piece of delicious pie?”

“I'll be back in a second, okay?” hung up and threw the phone back over the sink. I looked into his face, feeling my rational side return to its place after a brief moment of being out of breath. “I better go.”

“Look, I…” he was interrupted by my cell phone again.

I answered without even bothering to look at the screen.

“God, Niall! I'm not here screwing him!”

“Louis?” I heard Joel's confused voice on the other end of the line.

“Ah... hi” shit. This couldn't be happening to me.

“Well, I'm relieved to know that you're not... screwing…” Joel said, laughing slightly.

“Who is it?” Growled Mr. Styles.

I pressed my hand to his lips and shot him the angrier look I could get.

“Look, I can't talk much now.”

“Yeah, sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I couldn't stop thinking about you. And I don't want to bring any problems to anyone, but when you left, I checked my e-mails and there was a confirmation of the delivery of the flowers.”

“Really?” I asked, pretending to be interested. My eyes were locked on Mr. Styles.

“Well, it seems that Harry Styles signed the receipt.”


	11. Chapter 11

**• Harry •**

Several expressions crossed Louis' face: embarrassment, irritation and... curiosity? I could vaguely hear a male voice on the other end of the line, and I started to feel the caveman inside me waking up. Who the hell was calling him?

Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, and a small voice in my head told me that I should be nervous.

“Well, thanks for telling me about it. Yes. Yes, you can leave it. Right. Yes, I'll call you when I decide. Thanks for calling, Joel.”

Joel?  _ Fucking Cignoli? _

He hung up and slowly put his cell phone in his bag. Looking down, he shook his head and let out a light laugh before a small devilish smile appeared in the corner of his mouth.

“Do you have anything to tell me, Mr. Styles?” He asked sweetly, and for some reason, it made me even more anxious. I shook my head, I couldn't think of anything. What was he talking about? “I just had a very strange conversation. It seems that Joel received an email confirming the delivery of my flowers. You don't even know what was in that confirmation.”

He took a step towards me, and I instinctively took a step back. I didn't like where this was going.

“It turns out that someone signed the delivery.”

_ Oh shit. _

“The name on the receipt was  _ Harry Styles _ .”

_ Shiiiiiit _ .

Why the hell did I sign with my name? I tried to think of something to say, but my mind was blank. Obviously, my silence said everything he needed to know.

“You son of a bitch! Did you sign the receipt and then lie to me?” He pushed my chest hard, and I felt a sudden instinct to protect my balls. “Why did you do that?” my back was now against the wall and I was frantically looking for a way out.

“I… What?” I stammered. It felt like my heart was going to come out of my mouth.

“Really! Are you crazy?”

I needed an answer and I needed it quickly. Running my hands through my hair for the hundredth time in the past five minutes, I decided it was best to simply tell the truth. But it was difficult.

“I don't know,  _ okay _ ? I shouted back. - I just...  _ fuck _ !”

He took out his cell phone and started typing a message to someone.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Not that it's any of your business, but I'm telling Niall to continue without me. I will not leave here until you tell me the truth” he stared at me and I could feel his anger emanating in waves. I briefly considered going to explain myself to Emily, but she saw me following Louis, she certainly realized what was happening. “So?”

I met his gaze and let out a long breath. There was absolutely no way to explain it without looking crazy.

“Okay, yes, I signed the receipt.”

He looked at me. His chest rose and fell quickly and his fists were so tight that his skin was turning white.

“And?”

“And... I threw the flowers away” as I looked at him, I realized that I deserved every drop of anger he felt. I was being unfair. I didn't offer him anything, but I was putting myself in the path of someone who could possibly make him happy.

"You are unbelievable," he said, through clenched teeth. I knew he was trying hard not to jump on me and strangle me. “Explain why you would do such a thing.” That was the part I didn't know how to answer.

“Because…” I scratched behind my head. I hated being in that situation. “ _ Because _ don't I want you to go out with Joel?”

“How stupid. Who do you think you are? Just because we have sex doesn't mean you can make decisions about my life. We are not a couple, we are not dating. Hell, we don't even like each other!” he screamed.

“Do you think I don't know that? I know it doesn't make sense. But, when I saw those flowers... come on, they were roses, dammit!”

Louis looked at me like he was ready to go to a sanatorium.

“Did you forget to take your medicine? What does it have to do with the fact that they are roses?”

“You hate roses!” When I said that, his face lost its indignant expression. I continued: “I just saw the flowers and reacted. I didn't stop to think. Just thinking about him touching you…” I clenched my fists and my voice disappeared as I tried to compose myself. Every second I became more angry: with myself, for being weak and letting my emotions run wild again, and with him, for having this inexplicable strength over me.

"Okay, look," he said, taking a deep breath, "I'm not saying that I agree with what you did. But I even understand... in a way.”

My eyes dart towards his face.

"I would be lying if I said I haven't been possessive lately," he said reluctantly. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was Louis really admitting that he felt that way too?

“But that doesn't change the fact that you lied to me. You lied to my face. I may even think you are an asshole most of the time, but I always thought you would be honest with me.” I shuddered. Was he right.

“I'm sorry” my apology hung in the air, and I don't know which of us was more surprised.

“Prove it” he looked at me so calmly, there were no emotions on his face. What did he mean by that? But then I understood.  _ Prove it _ . We were unable to talk with words, as words only led to more problems. But that? That's what we were, and if he gave me a chance to fix things, I would definitely do it.

I hated him so much at that moment. I hated knowing that he was right and that I was wrong, and I hated that he was forcing me to make a decision. But most of all, I hated how much I wanted him. I closed the distance between us, placing my hand on the back of his neck. I pulled him closer, looking him in the eye as our mouths approached. There was an implicit challenge there. None of us would back down or admit that this - whatever that was - was beyond our control. Or maybe we just admitted it.

The moment our lips touched, familiar electricity ran through my body. My hands plunged deep into his hair, forcing his head back so that he received everything I had to give. This would be for him, but I was sure to take control. Pressing my body into his, I groaned as I felt the way each curve fit me. I wanted to end this need, be satisfied and move on, but every time I felt it, it seemed better than I remembered.

I knelt down, grabbed his hips and pulled him closer, while moving my lips over his pants. I lifted the tank top and kissed every inch of bare skin, feeling his muscles flex as I explored. I looked at his face, gripping the waistband with my fingers. His eyes were closed and he was biting his lips. I felt my cock harden in anticipation of what I intended to do.

I pulled his pants down to his thighs, feeling him shiver at the touch of my fingers. His hands grabbed me by the hair and pulled hard, causing my throat to growl as I looked back at him. I ran the bar of his red boxer, feeling the patterns of the fabric.

"This one is almost too beautiful to tear," I said, grabbing each side with one hand. “ _ Almost _ ” with a quick tug, the fabric tore easily, allowing me to tear off the boxer and put it in my pocket. A sense of urgency washed over me and I quickly released one of his legs, placing it over my shoulder and kissing the soft skin on the inside of his thighs.

"Oh, shit," he said with a sigh, running his hands through my hair. “Oh, shit, please.” When I first touched him with the tip of my nose and then slowly licked the entire length of his member, he pulled my hair and moved his hips against my mouth. Unintelligible words came out of his lips in a hoarse voice. Watching him get lost like that made me understand that he was as helpless against it as I was. He was mad at me, so angry that part of him probably wanted to hook his leg around my neck and strangle me, but at least he was letting me give him something that was, in many ways, much more intimate than just having sex. I was on my knees, but he was the one who was vulnerable and unprotected. He was also hot and pulsating, and it tasted even better than I expected.

My fingers locked on his entrance, massaging slowly as I allowed him to go deeper and deeper into my mouth. It was unusual for me when I had sex with men, but Louis was absurdly too delicious for me not to give him everything.

"I could eat you whole," I whispered, and pulled away just enough to watch his expression. Kissing your waist, I murmured, "It would be so much better if I could lay you down somewhere. A conference room table, for example.”

He pulled my hair back, pressing my face against his skin as he smiled.

“It's too good for me. Don't you dare to stop.”

I almost admitted out loud that I couldn't, and I was starting to loathe the thought of just trying, but soon I got lost in his skin again. I wanted to memorize every curse and plea that escaped his mouth and wanted to know that I was the cause. I groaned against his thighs, making him scream as he twisted his body to get even closer. I slid two fingers inside him and pulled his hips with the other hand, encouraging him to move at the same pace. He started to circle his hips, slowly at first, pressing against my mouth, and then faster. I could feel his tension: his legs, his stomach, his hands.

“So close…” he gasped, his movements starting to fail, breaking the rhythm and becoming wild, and it also made me feel out of control. I wanted to bite and suck, bury my fingers deep and punish his prostate completely. I was worried that maybe I was being too hard, but his breath became short sighs and then repeated pleas. I twisted my wrist, burying it even deeper. He screamed again and his legs shook as the climax took over his body. Stroking his waist, I slowly lowered his leg and watched his foot, just in case he decided he wanted to kick me. I ran a finger over my swollen lips and watched his eyes return to focus. He pushed me away and quickly adjusted his clothes, looking at me kneeling in front of him. Reality reappeared with the sound of people having lunch on the other side of the door, mixed with our heavy breathing.

"You are not forgiven," he said. Then he took out his wallet, unlocked the door and left the bathroom without saying another word.

I got up slowly and watched the door close behind him, trying to understand what had just happened. I should be furious. But I felt the corner of my mouth lift in a smile, and I almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

* * *

Damn Tomlinson had done it again. He was defeating me at my own game. My night was hell. I barely slept or ate, and suffered from an almost constant erection since I left that restaurant. On my way to work, I already knew what I had to put up with. He would do everything he could to torture and punish me for lying - but it turns out... I even wanted him to do that. I was surprised at his empty table when I arrived.

_ Strange _ , I thought, he was almost never late. I walked into my office and started packing up for the day. Fifteen minutes later, I was distracted by a phone call when I heard the front door slam. Well, he certainly wouldn't let me down: I could hear the drawers being closed in anger and I knew the rest of the day would be interesting. At ten-fifteen, I was interrupted by the intercom.

“Mr. Styles” his calm voice filled my room and, despite his obvious irritation, I smiled as I pressed the button to answer.

“Yes, Tomlinson?” I replied, hearing the smugness reflected in my tone of voice.

“We need to be in the conference room in fifteen minutes. You will need to leave at noon for your meeting with the president of Kelly Industries. Stan will be waiting in the garage.”

“Aren't you going to accompany me?” I wondered if he was avoiding being alone with me. And I didn't know how I would feel if that happened.

“No sir. Only management personnel” I heard the rustling of papers as he continued to speak. “Besides, I have to take care of the preparations for Los Angeles.”

"I'll be out in a minute." I let my finger slide off the button, got to my feet, and adjusted my tie and suit. When I left my office, my eyes immediately landed on him. Any doubts I still had about him wanting to torture me disappeared. He was leaning on the table wearing the blue suit. His hair was impeccable, and when he turned towards me, I saw that he was wearing glasses. How could I speak coherently, with him sitting next to me?

“Are you ready, sir. Styles?” without waiting for an answer, he gathered his things and started walking down the hall. There seemed to be an extra swing in his hips. The bastard was really trying to provoke me. In the crowded elevator, our bodies were squeezed together and I had to stifle a whisper. It could have been my imagination, but I thought I saw the hint of a smile when he "accidentally" rubbed himself against my semi-erect cock.  _ Twice _ .

For the next two hours, I lived a personal hell. Whenever I looked at him, he was doing something to drive me crazy: insinuating looks, bites on his lips, crossing and uncrossing his legs, locks of hair wrapped around his fingers. At one point, he dropped the pen and casually rested his hand on my thigh when he bent down to pick it up under the table.

At the lunch meeting that followed, I was both relieved to escape his torment and desperate to return. I nodded and spoke at the appropriate times, but I was too far away. Of course, my dad noticed every second of my lousy, quiet mood. On the drive back to the office, he started talking.

“You and Louis will be together in Los Angeles for three days, without the walls of the office, and there will be no one to interfere. I hope you will treat him with the utmost respect. And before you get all defensive,” he added, raising his hand as if he felt my impending response,“I already talked to him about it.”

My eyes widened and darted towards his face. Had he talked to Tomlinson about  _ my  _ professional conduct?!

"Yes, I am aware that it is not your fault alone," he said, as we entered the empty elevator. “He assured me that he always fights back. Why do you think I suggested you mentor him on the internship program? In my mind, there was no doubt that he could handle you.” Gemma was standing silently beside me, a smile of satisfaction wide open on her face. Damn it. I frowned slightly when I realized something: he had defended me. Louis could easily make me sound like a tyrant, but instead he accepted some of the blame.

“Dad, I admit that my relationship with him is not conventional” I started to speak, praying that no one would understand the real meaning of that statement. “But, I assure you, it does not in any way interfere with our ability to conduct business. There is nothing to worry about.”

“Great!” He said when we got to my floor.

We went into the office and found Louis on the phone, speaking in an almost inaudible tone.

“Well, I need to hang up, Mom. I have to take care of some things and I will answer you as soon as I can. You need to get some sleep, right?” He said softly.

After a brief pause, he laughed, but then went on for another moment without saying anything. The two beside me and I don't dare say anything.

“I love you too, Jay.”

My stomach churned with those words and the way his voice failed to pronounce that phrase. When he turned in his chair, he started when he found us standing at the door. Then he began to quickly gather the papers on his desk.

“How was the meeting?”

"It was all right, as always," my father said. “You and Liam really do a great job taking care of everything. I don't know what my kids would do without you two.”

His eyebrow went up slightly and I could see how much he controlled himself not to show the satisfaction he felt at hearing that. But then his face turned into an enigmatic expression, and I realized that the whole time I was smirking at him, hoping to see some of his usual boldness. I put on the best scowl I had and went into my office. It was only when I closed the door that I realized that, since we came back and heard him on the phone, I hadn't seen him smile once.


	12. Chapter 12

**• Louis •**

My mind was elsewhere. I had a few things to show Mr. Styles, before leaving for home, needed to get some documents to sign, but I felt like I was walking on quicksand: the conversation with my mother echoed incessantly in my thoughts. When I entered Mr. Styles, I watched the papers in my arms, thinking of all the things I still needed to organize: plane tickets, someone to pick up my mail, maybe even a temporary secretary for the time I was gone. And how long would it be?

I realized that Mr. Styles was saying something - loudly - in my direction. What would it be? He came into focus in front of me and I heard the end of his litany:

“... are barely paying attention. My God, Tomlinson, do I need to write this down for you?”

“Can we skip that part today?” I asked, tired of everything.

“Wait... what?”

“That idiotic boss little show.”

His eyes widened and his eyebrows came together. “How is it?”

“I understand that you like to be a great prick with me, and I admit that sometimes I even find it sexy, but I'm having a horrible day and I would love it if you just didn't talk. With me” I was on the verge of tears, my chest tightening painfully. “Please.”

He looked surprised, blinking rapidly as he faced me. Finally, he stammered:

“What happened?”

I swallowed, sorry for my outburst. Things were always better with him when I controlled myself.

“I crossed the line because you yelled at me. I’m sorry.”

He stood up and started walking towards me, but at the last moment he stopped, sat on the corner of the table and started to fiddle with a paperweight.

“No, I mean, why is your day being so bad? What is happening?” I’ve never heard your voice so soft outside of sex. But this time he was speaking in a low voice not to keep a secret, but because he seemed genuinely concerned.

I didn't want to talk to him about it because part of me thought he was going to make fun. But an even larger part was beginning to suspect that he wouldn’t.

“My mother had to do some tests. She is having trouble eating.”

Mr. Styles fell apart.

“Eating? Does she have an ulcer?”

I explained what I knew: that it had started suddenly and that a previous examination showed a small tumor in her esophagus.

“Can you go home?” He asked and I faced him.

“I don’t know. Can I?”

He winced and blinked.

“Do you think I'm such a big ass?”

“Sometimes” I immediately regretted saying that, because no, he had never done anything to make me think he would not let me go home with my sick mother.

He nodded and swallowed while staring at the window.

“You can take all the time you need, of course.”

“Thank you.”

I stared at the floor, waiting for him to continue with the list of tasks for the day. But instead, silence filled the room. I could see out of the corner of his eye that he turned and was now looking at me.

“Are you alright?” He said, his voice so low that I wasn't sure if I heard correctly. I considered lying and ending this awkward conversation. But I didn't do that.

“No. I’m actually not.”

He raised his hand and ran it through his hair.

“Close the door”, he said.

I nodded, strangely disappointed that he was asking me to leave the room.

“Later I’ll bring the notes in the documents to…”

“I meant to close the door, but stay here.”

Oh.

_ Oh. _

I turned and walked across the carpeted floor in complete silence. The door to the room closed with a loud sound.

“Lock it.”

I turned the lock and felt him approach until his hot breath reached my neck.

“Let me touch you. Let me do something.”

He understood. He knew what he could give me - distraction, relief, pleasure in the face of growing panic. I didn't answer, because there was no need. After all, I had closed and locked the door. But then I felt his soft lips run over my shoulder and up my neck.

"Your smell is ... incredible," he said, unbuttoning my shirt with an unusual slowness. “Your scent always clings on me afterwards.”

He didn't say whether that was a good thing or not, but I realized it didn't matter. I liked that he smelled me even after I left. With his hands sliding up to my waist, he turned me over and leaned over to kiss me, in one smooth motion. This was different. His mouth was soft, almost pleading. There was no hesitation - there was never any hesitation in anything he did - but that kiss almost felt more loving and less like a battle being lost.

He pulled my shirt by the shoulders, letting it fall at my feet as he took a step back, giving just enough space for the cold office air to wipe his warmth off my skin.

“You are gorgeous.”

Before I could process the softness of those new words, he smiled provocatively, leaned over to kiss me, and after opening my pants, grabbed my boxers and tore them up.

We knew  _ that _ .

I reached out to open his pants, but he pulled away and shook his head. Then he moved his hand between my legs, finding my hardened member. I felt my breath quicken on my face as his fingers managed to be both delicate and rough. His words sounded deep, naughty, saying that I was beautiful, that I was a wanton. Saying that I teased him and that he liked it. Saying how much he liked my voice when I came.

I shivered as the orgasm approached. All the sounds in the room felt strangely muffled and I wanted to cry. Even so, I could still make out his words in the midst of my whirlwind.

“You're beautiful.  _ Damn, you're so mine... I love… _ ”

“Oh...  _ Ooh!” _ My groan cut off any possibility he might have to continue.

“Yes, babe. Come to me…”

I felt the ecstasy getting closer and closer and a lonely tear escaped, despite all my efforts to hold it.

“Shhhh…” I felt his thumb scraping on my face, drying the salty trail of my tear.”

When I came, panting and grabbing his shoulders through the suit, all I could think about was that I also wanted to touch him. I wanted to hear him get lost like me. And it terrified me. He released my sensitive member, causing an involuntary shudder.

“Sorry, sorry” he whispered, kissing my face, my chin, my…

"Stop," I said, pulling my mouth away from his. The sudden intimacy he offered, in addition to everything else that had happened that day, was too much for me to take.

He rested his forehead against mine for a few seconds before nodding once. I was suddenly shocked. I had always thought he had all the power and I had nothing, but at that moment, I realized that I could have as much power over him as I wanted. I just had to have the courage to do that.

“I'm leaving town this weekend. I don't know when I'll be back.”

“Well,” he started, as he walked away and watched me with cloudy eyes “then get back to work while you're still here, Tomlinson.”


	13. Chapter 13

**• Harry •**

When Thursday morning came, I knew that we needed to have some kind of conversation. I wouldn't be in the office on Friday, so that would be the last day we would see each other before he left town. He had been with his MBA supervisor all morning, and I felt increasingly anxious about... everything. I was sure that the interaction in my office the day before had revealed that he was slowly taking more and more from me. I wanted to be with him most of the time, and not just for sex. I just wanted to be close to him, and my need for self-preservation was killing me.

What did he say that time?  _ I don't want to want this. This is not good for me. _ It was only when Ash discovered us that I really understood what Louis meant. I hated my desire for him because it was the first time in my life that I was unable to get something out of my head so I could focus on work. But nobody - not even my family - would condemn me for being attracted to him. He, on the other hand, would forever be marked as the intern who had sex to get to the top. For someone so bright and determined, this association would be a constant - and painful - thorn.

He was right to want to keep his distance. The attraction we felt when we were together was totally sick. Nothing good could come of this. I decided once again to use that time away from him to regain my focus. When I walked into the office after lunch, I was surprised to find him at his desk, working on the computer.

"I didn't know you would be here in the afternoon," I said, trying to keep any emotion out of my voice.

“Yeah, I had to make some last minute adjustments to Los Angeles, and I still need to talk to you about my absence” he said, without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Do you rather do this in my office?”

"No," he replied instantly. "I think we can do it right here." With a quick glance in my direction, he waved at the chair across from him. “You prefer to sit, Mr. Styles?”

_ Ah, the advantage of playing at home. _ I sat down in the chair he offered me.

“Since you will be gone tomorrow, there is no reason for me to be here. I know you don't like having an assistant, but I got a temporary one for the next two weeks, and I've already given Liam a detailed list of your schedule and the things you need. I'm sure there won't be any problems, but just in case, he promised to keep an eye on you.”

Louis raised an eyebrow and I rolled my eyes.

"If you need anything, you have my phones, including my mother's home number in Doncaster," he began to describe a list in front of him, and I realized how calm and efficient Tomlinson was. Not that I wasn't already aware of these things, but somehow, now it was even more apparent. Our eyes met and he continued: “I'm going to get to the city for the convention a few hours before you, so I plan to pick you up at the airport.”

We continued to look at each other for a while, and I'm pretty sure we thought the same: Los Angeles would be a colossal test.

The mood in the room began to change slowly, the silence saying more than any words. I squeezed my chin when I realized that his breathing was accelerating. I had to use every drop of my willpower not to go around the table and kiss him.

"Have a nice trip, Tomlinson," I said, relieved that my voice didn't show the drama going on inside me. I stood up and waited for a moment, adding: “So, see you in LA.”

“Yes.”

I nodded and entered my office, closing the door behind me. I didn't see him for the rest of the day, and our brief farewell seemed completely wrong.

* * *

I spent the entire weekend thinking about what it would be like to be without him for two weeks. On one hand, it would be good to work without this distraction. On the other hand, I wondered if it would be strange not to have him by my side. He had been a constant in my life for almost a year, and despite our differences, his presence had become comforting.

Payne came into my office at nine sharp on Monday morning, showing a wide smile as he approached. Behind him was an attractive twenty-something brunette named Kelsey, my new temporary assistant. She looked at me with a slightly shy smile, and Liam calmed her by placing a hand on her shoulder. I decided to use this as an opportunity to prove to everyone that my reputation was simply the result of working with someone as stubborn as Tomlinson.

"Nice to meet you, Kelsey," I said, smiling broadly and offering my hand in greeting. She looked at me strangely, with a glassy expression.

"Likewise, sir," she said, looking at Liam, who, in turn, looked confusedly at my hand and then at my face.

Liam then spoke to Kelsey:

“Right. Well, we've already reviewed everything that Louis left. Your table is here” and he led her to Tomlinson's chair.

I was overcome with a strange sensation when I saw another person sitting there. I felt my smile fade and turned to Liam.

“If she needs anything she can talk to you. I will be in my office.”

Kelsey resigned before lunch. Apparently, I was a little "too much" when she managed to start a small microwave fire in the office kitchen. The last time I saw her, she was running in tears out of the room, talking about a hostile work environment. Around two in the afternoon, they brought in a new assistant, a young man named Isaac. He seemed very smart, and I was excited to work with someone who was not a hypersensitive girl. I had to smile at the thought of this sudden change in the situation. Unfortunately, it was too early to celebrate. Every time I spent with Isaac he was wasting time on the internet, looking at pictures of cats or watching video clips. He quickly minimized the windows, but, unfortunately for Isaac, I was not a complete idiot. I diplomatically told him not to mind returning the next day. The third person was not improved at all. Her name was Jill. She talked too much, her clothes were too tight, and the way she bit the tip of her pen made her look like an animal trying to break out of a trap. It was nothing like the way Louis held his pen between his teeth when he was thoughtful. He was subtly sexy, but she was more than obscene. It was unacceptable. As of Tuesday afternoon, she was gone.

The week continued on that same level. I received five different assistants. More than once I heard my sister laughing across the hall.  _ Damn it. She didn't even work on my floor! _ I started to feel that people were enjoying my suffering too much, or even thinking that I was reaping what I had planted. I had no doubt that Liam had already informed Louis of my nightmare with the temp. Even so, during the first week, I received several text messages from him, wanting to know how things were going. I started to like it, and even periodically checked my cell phone to make sure I hadn't missed one. I hate to admit it, but at that point, I would even sell my car to have him back there, with his tireless disposition.

In addition to desperately missing his body, I also missed the war between us. He knew I was an asshole, but he held on. I have no idea why, but I could take it. I felt my respect for his professionalism grow during our first week apart.

When the second week passed without any message from him, I wondered what he was doing, and who he was doing it with. I wondered if he had spoken to Joel on the phone again. I was pretty sure they hadn't met again, and he and I had reached a precarious ceasefire over the flower incident. Still, I wondered if he would have called again and tried something with Louis when he got home.

_Home_. Was he at home now, with his mother? Or did he consider London to be his home? For the first time, I thought that if his mother was really sick, he might decide to move to Doncaster to be close to her.

_ Shit. _

I was packing my bags on Sunday night when I heard my cell phone ring, saying that a new message had arrived. I felt a little excitement when I saw his name on the screen.

**Tomlinson:** I will meet you at 11:30 tomorrow. Terminal B, near the Arrivals Gate. Send a text message when you land.

I stopped for a moment to digest the fact that we would be together the next day.

**You:** Okay. Thank you.

**Tomlinson:** You're welcome. How was your week?

I was a little surprised that he asked about my week. We were treading on uncharted territory. At work, we exchanged emails and messages frequently, but were generally restricted to questions such as answering yes or no. It was never about anything personal. Was it possible that his week had been just as frustrating?

**You:** Everything's great. Yours? How is your mother?

I laughed when I sent the message, this situation was getting weirder and I just couldn't control my fingers when they clicked the button to edit the contact. When the screen flashed again, less than a minute later, my brain was screaming about how screwed up I was.

**Louis:** She's fine. I missed her, but I'm looking forward to going home.

_ Home _ . I noticed that word and swallowed, feeling a sudden tightness in my chest.

**Louis:** See you tomorrow :)

I set the alarm on my cell phone, put it on the nightstand and sat on the bed, next to my suitcase. I would see Louis in less than twelve hours.

And I didn't know exactly how I was feeling about it.


	14. Chapter 14

**• Louis •**

As I predicted, the flight to Los Angeles gave me time to think. I felt loved and rested after visiting my mother. After the gastroenterologist relieved us to find that the tumor was benign, we spent time together talking, remembering my childhood and adolescence, even planning a visit to London. When she kissed me goodbye, I felt as prepared as possible, considering the situation. I was very nervous to see Mr. Styles, but I tried to encourage myself as much as I could. I did online shopping and now I had a suitcase full of new power boxers. I thought about my options a lot, and I was sure I had a good plan.

The first step would be to admit that the problem was more than just the temptation caused by proximity. Being more than a thousand kilometers away had done nothing to calm my need. I dreamed of him almost every night, waking up each morning frustrated and lonely. I spent too much time thinking about what he was doing, wondering if he was as confused as I was and trying to get every piece of information from Liam I could about how things were going in my absence. Liam and I had an interesting conversation when he called to tell me about the situation of the new assistants. I laughed hysterically when I heard about the temporary saga. Of course, Mr. Styles would have a hard time keeping someone around. He was an asshole.

I was used to his mood swings and his difficult attitude. Professionally, our relationship worked perfectly. The personal side was that it was a nightmare. Almost everyone knew this, they just didn't know the extent of the problem.

I thought a lot about the last day we spent together. Something about our relationship was changing, and I didn't know exactly how I felt about it.

No matter how many times we said it would not happen again, I knew it would happen. And it terrified me that this man, all wrong to me, had more control over my body than I did, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise. I didn't want to be the type of person who sacrifices his ambitions for the sake of a man. Standing in front of the airport gate, I gave myself one last speech. I could do that. Oh, God, I hoped I could. My stomach was more than upset and I was worried that I might even throw up.

His flight was delayed and it was after half past six when he finally landed in LA. While the time of my flight had been good for me to think about, the seven extra hours waiting for him just rekindled my nerves.

I stood on tiptoe trying to get a better look at the crowd that landed, but I didn't find it. I looked at my cell phone and read the message he had sent again.

**Harry E. Styles:** I just landed. I'll see you in a few minutes

There was nothing sentimental about the message, but my stomach churned nonetheless. Our messages the night before were the same. We didn't say anything special: I just asked how he spent the rest of the week. This would not be considered unusual in any other relationship, but it was entirely new to us. Perhaps there was a chance that we could overcome animosity and become...  _ what? Friends? _

With my stomach knotting several knots, I paced back and forth, trying to calm my mind and my heart to slow down. Without thinking, I stopped suddenly and turned towards the crowd, looking for him in the ocean of unknown faces. My breath hitched when I saw a familiar mess of curls stand out among the others. _ Control yourself Louis. God! _

I tried again to control my body and then I looked again.  _ Shit. I'm screwed _ . There he was, looking even more beautiful. How does one manage to look better in nine days, and getting off a plane, to top it off?

He was taller than everyone around him, a height that stands out in a crowd, and I thanked the universe for that. His hair was a nightmare as usual, he had certainly run his hands over it hundreds of times in the past hour. He was wearing very tight black pants, a gray blazer, and a particularly awful shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. He looked tired, but that wasn't what made my heart race. He was looking at the floor, and the moment our eyes met, his face lit up with the most genuine smile I had ever seen - with dimples and everything. Before I could stop it, I felt my own smile explode, wide and silly.

He stopped in front of me, looking slightly more tense than before, while we both waited for each other to say something.

"Hi," I said awkwardly, trying to ease some of the tension. Every part of me wanted to drag him into the bathroom, but I doubted it would be an appropriate way to receive my boss. Not that it mattered before.

He didn't answer, just stared at me as if he had lost something on my face, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“Hi” I repeated.

“Oops!” He replied in an unusual joke tone, as if he was coming out of a dream. “Hi.”

I didn't know how to react to that, so I kept silent, smiling. It was as if my body didn't know how to stop smiling at him.

We started walking to the baggage claim, and I felt a shiver spread over me just by being beside him.

“How was your flight?” I asked, knowing that he hated flying commercial lines, even if he was first class. This was so ridiculous. I wanted him to just say something stupid, so I could yell at him again.

He thought for a while before answering.

“It was all right, after we took off. I don't like how the planes get too full” we stopped and waited, surrounded by agitated people, but the only thing I noticed was the tension building between us and every inch of space between our bodies. “And how is your mother's health?” He asked, after a moment.

I nodded.

“It's benign. Thanks for asking.”

“It’s fine.”

Minutes passed in an uncomfortable silence and I was more than relieved when I saw his luggage appear on the conveyor. We tried to catch it at the same time and our hands touched briefly. Moving away, I looked up and saw that he was looking at me.

My stomach became a black hole when I saw that hungry look in his eyes. We murmured apologies and I looked away, but not before I noticed a smile in the corner of his mouth. Fortunately, it was time to pick up the rental car, and we headed for the parking lot. He looked pleased when we approached the car, a luxurious Mercedes-Benz. He loved driving - well, he loved running with the car - and I always made sure to rent something fun when he needed it.

“Very well, Mr. Tomlinson” he said, running his hand over the hood. “I’ll remember to think about giving you a raise.”

I felt the familiar desire to punch him spread through my body and it calmed me down. Everything was much clearer when he behaved like an asshole. Pressing the button to open the trunk, I shot him a disapproving look and stepped back a little so he could pack his things. He took off his coat and handed it to me. I threw it in the trunk.

"Watch out," he warned.

“I'm not the airport baggage handler. Store your damn coat yourself.” He laughed and bent down to pick up the suitcase.

“God, I just wanted you to hold it a little.”

“Ah” with my face turning red, I took the coat and smoothed it on my arm. “I’m sorry.”

“Why do you always think I'm being an idiot?”

“Because you usually are.”

With another laugh, he lifted the suitcase.

“You must have missed me a lot.”

I started to answer, but ended up distracted watching the muscles in his back stretch his shirt when he set his bag down next to mine. Up close, I saw that the shirt had a subtle gray color and was tailored to his broad shoulders and tight waist, so that there was almost no fabric left.

He closed the trunk tightly, yanking me out of that trance, and I put the keys in his outstretched hand. He walked over to the passenger side, opened the door for me and waited for me to sit before closing it.  _ Of course, you are a really great gentleman _ , I thought.

We traveled in silence, the only sound coming from the engine and the GPS that gave directions to get to the hotel. I busied myself by reviewing our schedule and trying to ignore the man beside me.

I wanted to look at him, I wanted to study his face. I wanted to reach out and touch the marked line of his jaw, I wanted to tell him to stop and touch me.

All of these thoughts ran through my mind, making it impossible to focus on the papers in my lap. The time we spent apart was not enough to lessen the control he had over me. In fact, it was even stronger. I wanted to ask how he had spent the past two weeks. I really wanted to know how he was doing.

With a sigh, I closed the folder on my lap and turned to look out the window. We probably passed by the sea, navy ships and people on the streets, but I couldn't see anything. The only thing on my mind was what was in the car. I felt every movement, every breath. His fingers drummed on the steering wheel. The leather sizzled as he settled on the bench. His perfume filled the enclosed space and made it impossible to remember why I should resist. He completely surrounded me. I needed to be strong and to own my own path, I needed to prove that I controlled my life, but every part of me wanted to be with him. I would have to compose myself at the hotel before the conference, but with him so close, all the best intentions were out of my reach.

“Are you okay, Tomlinson?” I was startled to hear his voice and I turned to meet his green eyes. My stomach turned over again with the intensity behind his gaze. How could I forget those long eyelashes? “We arrived,” he pointed to the hotel, and I was surprised to realize that we were already there. “Are you all right?”

“Yes” I replied quickly. “I had a very long day, that's all.”

"Um..." he murmured, still looking at me. His eyes landed on my mouth, and, God _ , I wanted to kiss him _ . I missed the command of his mouth on mine, kissing me like there was nothing in the world he wanted more. And sometimes I suspected that it was even true.

As if I was being attracted to him, I leaned forward. Electricity seemed to hang in the air between us, and his gaze returned to focus on my eyes. He approached me and I could feel his hot breath against my mouth.

Suddenly, my door opened and I jumped on the bench, shocked to see the hotel clerk's hand. I got out of the car, breathing the air that was not permeated by the intoxicating smell of that perfume. The clerk picked up the bags and Mr. Styles excused himself to answer a phone call while I was checking in. The hotel was packed with other speakers and I saw several familiar faces. I had arranged to meet a group of other students from my MBA. I waved to a woman I recognized. It would be great to go out with some friends, since we were there. The last thing I needed was to be alone in a hotel, fantasizing about the man in the next room.

After receiving the keys and asking the bellhop to take our bags to the rooms, I headed for the lobby, looking for Mr. Styles. The reception was full, and when I looked around, I saw that he was standing next to a tall brunette. They were very close, and his head was slightly lowered as he listened carefully.

I couldn't see her face and I narrowed my eyes when I saw her raise her hand and squeeze his arm. She laughed at something he said and he pulled away slightly, which allowed me to see her better. She was beautiful, with dark hair and long shoulders. As I watched, she put something in his hand and closed it. A strange look came over his face when he lowered his head to examine the object in his hand.

This had to be a joke. Did she... did she just gave him her room key?

I watched for another moment, and something inside me crackled as he stared at the key, as if he were considering keeping it. Imagining him looking at another person with the same intensity, wanting another person, made my stomach twist in anger. Before I could stop myself, I started walking through the lobby until I reached their side.

I put my hand on his arm and he blinked when he saw me, showing a surprised expression on his face.

“Harry, are you ready to go up?” I asked discreetly.

His eyes widened and his mouth opened in shock. I've never seen him so completely speechless. And then I realized: I had never called him by his first name.

“Harry?” I asked again, and something changed in his expression. Slowly, the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile and our eyes met for a moment.

Turning back to her, he smiled politely.

"Sorry," he said, his voice so soft it made me shiver, discreetly returning the key. “As you can see, I'm not alone.”

The feeling of victory in my chest completely overcame the horror I was supposed to feel at the moment. He put his hand on my back as he led us out of the lobby. But the closer we got to the elevators, the more my enthusiasm was replaced by something else. I started to panic when I realized the irrational way I had acted.

The memory of our constant game of cat and mouse exhausted me. How many times a year did he travel? And how many times did he receive a key in his hand? Would I be there to get you out of the situation whenever it happened? And if he wasn't, would he happily go up with someone else to his room?

And really, who the hell did I think it was for him? I shouldn't care!

My heart was racing and I could hear the blood pumping in my ears. Three other couples got on the elevator with us, and I prayed I could get to my room without exploding. I couldn't believe what I had just done. I looked into his face and saw a triumphant smile.

I took a deep breath and tried to remind myself that this was exactly what I needed to get away from. What I did in the lobby was not at all what I was, and it was unprofessional of us to act that way in such a public place. I wanted to yell at him, hurt him and make him as angry as I felt, but it was getting harder and harder to find the will to do it.

We went up in a tense silence, until the last couple left, leaving us alone. I closed my eyes, just trying to breathe, but of course all I could do was smell his perfume. I didn't want him to be with anyone else, and that feeling was so overwhelming it made me lose my breath. It was terrifying because, honestly, I knew he could break my heart.

_ He could totally break me. Entirely.  _

The elevator stopped and the doors slowly opened on our floor.

“Louis?” He said, with his hands on my back.

I left in a hurry.

“Where are you going?” He shouted in my direction. I heard your steps and knew we were going to be in trouble.  _ “Louis, wait!” _

I couldn't run from him forever. I didn't even know if I wanted to keep running.


	15. Chapter 15

**• Harry •**

A million thoughts came to mind in that second. We couldn't keep doing this. It would either continue or it had to end. Now.

It was interfering with my work, my sleep, my head - my goddamn life.

But as much as I tried to lie to myself, I knew very well what I wanted. I couldn't let him get away.

He practically ran down the hall, but I went after him.

“You can't do that and then expect me to just let you go!”

“Yes I can!” He shouted over his shoulders. When he reached the front of the room, Louis fumbled with the key before he hit the lock.

I reached him just when he managed to open it, and our eyes met briefly as he tried to close the door tightly. I threw my hand in the gap and opened the door so violently that it hit the side wall.

”What the fuck do you think you're doing?” He shouted, going to the bathroom, on the opposite wall, and turning to face me.

“Do you want to stop running from me?” I followed him, my voice echoing through the small space. “If this is because of the woman down there…”

He seemed to be even more furious at my words and took a step towards me.

“Don't you dare mention that. I never acted like a jealous boyfriend - he shook his head in disgust before turning to the sink and starting to rummage through his carry-on.”

As I watched him, he became more and more frustrated. Why else could he be like this? I was completely confused. By this time, his anger would usually have ripped off my clothes and pressed me against a wall. But now he looked genuinely angry.

“Do you think I would be interested in any woman who offers me the room key? What kind of man do you think I am?”

He tapped a hairbrush on the sink and looked at me furiously.

“ _ Are you serious? _ I know you've done this before. Just sex, no compromise... I'm sure you get keys all the time.”

To be honest, I had had relationships that were just sex, but this thing with Louis wasn't just sex for a while. I started to answer, but he interrupted me.

"I never did anything like that and I don't know how to act anymore," he said, his voice getting louder with each word. “But when I'm with you, it's like nothing else matters. This... this thing” he continued, gesturing between us -,”this is not me! It's like I become someone else when I'm with you, and I hate it! I can't go on, Harry. I don't like what I'm becoming. I work hard. I care about my job. I'm smart. And none of that would matter if people knew what was going on between us. Go find someone else.”

“I already told you, I haven't been with anyone else since we started with this.”

“Which does not mean that you wouldn’t accept a key placed in your hand. What would you do if I wasn't here?”

Without hesitating, I said:

“I would return it.”

But he just laughed, clearly not believing.

“Look. This whole thing exhausted me. I just want to take a shower and go to bed.”

It was almost impossible to imagine leaving without resolving this issue, but he had already moved away and was opening the shower. When I got to the door to leave, I looked at him again: already surrounded by the steam from the bath, looking at me as I left the room. And maybe he would never admit it, but his face showed the same conflict that I felt.

Without thinking, I crossed the room, took his face in my hands and pulled him towards me. When our lips met, he let out a stifled moan of surrender, immediately dipping his hands into my hair. I kissed him harder, taking his sounds as mine, taking his lips as mine, his taste as my property.

"We will declare a truce for one night," I said, and pressed three small kisses to his lips, one on each side and one longer in the center, in the heart of his mouth. “I want to have you whole for one night, without strings attached, without inhibitions. Please, Louis, I'll stop pestering you after that, but I haven't seen you for two weeks and... I just need one night.”

He stared at me for several painful moments, clearly in conflict. And then, with a brief pleading sound, he reached out and pulled me, standing on tiptoe to get as close as he could. My lips explored his, fierce and obstinate, but he didn't pull away, pressing his curves against me. I didn't think of anything else but him. We hit the wall, the sink, the shower door, grabbing and pulling in our despair. The bathroom was completely covered with steam and nothing else felt real. I could smell, taste, and feel his skin, but none of it seemed enough.

Our kisses became deeper, our touches, more wild. I grabbed his ass, his thighs, I moved my hands up his waist, needing to take all parts of his body at the same time. He pushed me against the wall and a cascade of hot water spilled over my shoulders and chest, pulling me out of my trance. Still dressed, we had gone under the shower. We were getting soaked. And we didn't care.

His hands roamed my body frantically, pulling my shirt out of his pants. With shaking hands, he started to unbutton, hastily yanking some buttons off before taking the wet fabric off my shoulders and throwing it out of the shower.

The wet fabric of his own shirt clung to his body, accentuating every curve. I touched the fabric along his chest, feeling his nipples hard. He groaned and rested his hand on mine, guiding my movements.

"Say what you want." My voice was rough with desire. “Say what you want me to do with you.”

"I don't know," he whispered in my mouth. “I just want to see you fall apart.”

I wanted to tell him that this was already happening and, to be honest, he had been witnessing it for weeks, but my words were gone when I slid my hands beside his body and inside his pants. We bite and tease each other's mouths, and the sound of the shower drowned out our moans. I ran my hand into his boxer and felt his cock throb in my fingers.

Wishing to see more of him, I removed my hands and directed my focus to actually undress him. With a single movement, I pulled on my pants and almost had a heart attack at the sight of what was hidden. My God. He was trying to kill me.

I took a step back and leaned against the wall for support. He was in front of me, wet from head to toe, wearing a white boxer, almost transparent. His nipples were visibly stiff, and I couldn't stop myself from touching them.

“Shit, you are  _ so  _ beautiful!” I said, running my fingertips along the small defined muscles of his chest. A visible tremor appeared in his body and my hand started to rise, going over my neck and finally reaching my chin.

We could have sex right there, soaked and slippery, on the tile floor, and maybe later that would happen, but first I wanted to enjoy the moment. My heart sped up at the thought that we had an entire night ahead of us. There was no need to hurry or hide. No fighting or guilt. I wanted to fall apart for Louis. We would have a night together and I would spend the whole time with him... in a bed.

I reached out behind him and turned off the shower. He hugged me back, pressing his body even tighter against mine. I took his face in my hands and kissed him for a long time, sliding my tongue against his. His hips swayed against my body, causing a desperate friction between our needy limbs, I opened the shower door, leading him out. I couldn't stop touching your skin: on your back, on the gentle curve of your waist and climbing back up the sides. I needed to feel and taste every inch of it.

Our kiss didn't stop as we left the bathroom, stumbling awkwardly and tearing what was left of our clothes. Walking backwards across the room, I kicked off my wet shoes and his hands started to take off my belt. Guiding him, I quickly ran out of pants and underwear. In a hurry, I kicked them both to the side, where they landed in a pile.

I ran my knuckles through his ribs and he stifled a laugh on my shoulder. Pulling him closer, I groaned in his mouth when the hardened nipples scraped against my chest. The tips of his wet hair brushed my face as I sought untiring contact with his small lips and I could feel electricity running through my skin.

The room was dark, the only lighting coming from a small crack of light that escaped the bathroom door and the moon that hung in the night sky. The back of his knees touched the bed and my hands found the last piece of clothing between us. My mouth moved from his lips to his neck, from his chest to his stomach. I planted kisses and bites there until I finally reached the white bar that hid the rest. Sliding my knees in front of him, I looked up and met his eyes. His hands were in my hair, stroking his fingers through the wet strands.

I raised my hand, took each side of the boxer that separated us between my fingers and slid it slowly, watching as I decided to come off his skin. A confused expression appeared on his face. The fabric fell off his entire body and then he was completely naked in front of me. I may not have ripped the boxer, but I certainly planned to take this gem with me.

He laughed, as if he had heard my thoughts.

I led him to sit on the end of the bed and, still kneeling in front of him, spread his legs. Running my hands along his velvety skin, I kissed the inside of his thighs and the entire length of them. Its flavor slid through my mouth and invaded my mind. I just cared about taking it deep in my throat, enjoying every bit, erasing any trace of the world outside. God, what did that man do to me... I made a move to lay him on his back and then I finally went up to join him, running my lips and tongue along his body, with his hands still tangled in my hair, guiding me to where he wanted to go.

I slid my thumb into his mouth, wanting him to suck me, wanting my own mouth on his ribs, on his chin, on the soft flesh in his ass.

His sighs and moans filled the room and mixed with mine. I was tougher than I thought possible, and I wanted to bury myself in him again and again, but I wanted to give him more than that. I reached for his mouth and dragged my wet thumb across his face when he pulled me down, aligning every inch of our naked bodies. We kissed frantically, hands searching and grabbing as we tried to get as close as possible. Our hips moved together, my cock rubbed against him, seeking its warmth.

Every dragged move, every touch on his pre-cum smeared glans caused him to groan. With just a small movement, I could get into him deeply. And I wanted to do that more than anything, but first I needed to hear something from him, first I needed to deliver what I had. When he said my name downstairs in the lobby, something inside me crackled. I still didn't get it right, I didn't know if I was ready to understand, but I knew I needed him to say it, I needed to hear that it was me he wanted. I needed to know that that night he would be mine.

“Louis”

He let out a muffled groan in response when I pressed on his member, moving his wrist slowly.

“Louis, I'm dying for you, babe. I want you inside me” I whispered in your ear. He sobbed and a deep groan escaped his lips. “Is this what you want?”

“Harry, you don't hav…” His blue eyes sparkled, somewhat cloudy.  _ He wanted. _

“Shhhh…” My fingers rested on his lips and I pressed a small kiss there. “I want to, Louis.”

"Yes," he groaned, his voice pleading and his lips lifted looking for me. I kissed him deeply and pulled him on top of me.

Our bodies were completely intertwined, foreheads were glued together and I felt his fingers surrounding me, causing goosebumps all over my spine.

“Oh, fuck” I couldn't help but moan when I felt his fingers slowly opening me. Louis was enveloped in lust, but a certain delicacy came over his eyes.

“Do you want me to stop?”

_ “Please, don’t.” _

He continued. The movements were slow and little by little the initial pain became a type of heat that made me roll my eyes.

The tip of his member slid into my entrance and I squeezed my chin, wanting to prolong that pleasure. My heels went up and down his legs until they finally grabbed his waist. Louis took my hands and placed them above my head, interlacing our fingers.

_ "Please, Loueh, _ " I begged. “You're driving me crazy.”

He lowered his head until our foreheads met, and then he finally penetrated me.

“Oh, shit!” He groaned.

“Speak again” I was running out of breath when he started to come and go.

“Harreh... fuck!”

I wanted to hear it again and again. He lifted his body and got on his knees, increasing the pace, with our hands still clasped.

“Please don't stop!” I was getting close to the climax and I knew he was too, since the thrusts were decreasing a little. I was away from him too long, and none of my fantasies came close to what I felt now.

"I want you like this every day," I growled against his sweaty skin. “Like that, and on all fours at my table. And on my knees, sucking me.”

“Why?” He said through clenched teeth. “Why do I love that you talk to me like that? You are a great prick.”

He bent over me and I laughed at his neck.

We moved together effortlessly, our wet skins sliding together. With each thrust, he lifted my waist to accommodate himself, my legs around his hips pulling him deeper. I was so lost to him that time didn't seem to exist. Our hands were still tightly joined over my head, and he started to squeeze them even more.

He was getting close, his moans were getting louder and my name escaped his mouth again and again, making me come close to the abyss too.

"Please, Louis." My voice was hoarse with the desperation I felt. I was so close and every muscle asked for an orgasm when he pressed my point with his cock. “Come with me.”

"Oh, God, Harry..." he groaned. “Say something else” shit. My boy likes dirty words. “ _ Please _ .”

“You look so sweaty and hot. When you're almost coming” I gasped “your skin is all flushed and your voice is hoarse. And there is nothing more perfect than your face when you come.” I squeezed him tighter with my legs and I felt his breath hitch, I felt my muscles all tighten around him. “Oh, if I knew you looked so hot, I would have let you fuck me long before.”

That was all it took. Louis thrust deeper, practically getting out of bed with each movement. I was almost overflowing, and when he shouted my name, I couldn't help it.

I stifled my screams in his neck when I felt orgasm squeezing him fiercely inside me. Nothing in the world was as good as that - letting the wave rush and hit us at the same time - so I gave myself up too.

After those intense moments, I moved my face closer to him, our noses touched and our breathing was hot and fast. My mouth was dry, my muscles ached and I was exhausted. I let go of his hands and stroked his fingers gently, trying to bring the circulation back.

My God!” I said. Everything looked different, but completely undefined. Getting off him, I closed my eyes, trying to block the tangle of thoughts.

Beside me, he shuddered.

“Are you cold?” I asked.

"No," he replied, shaking his head. “Just completely exhausted.”

I pulled him to me and reached out to cover us with the blanket. I didn't want to leave, but I didn't know if he wanted me to stay.

“Me too.”

The silence enveloped us and the minutes passed. I thought he was asleep. I shifted slightly and was surprised by his voice.

“Don't go” he said in the darkness. I leaned over, kissed the top of his head and took a deep breath, smelling his sweet, familiar scent.

“I'm not going anywhere.”


	16. Chapter 16

**• Harry •**

_ Shit, that was good. _

Something hot and wet enveloped my cock again and I groaned loudly.  _ Best. Dream. Ever. _ The Louis of my dream groaned, sending a vibration along my cock that ran through my entire body.

_ “Lou” _ I heard my own voice and shifted slightly. I had dreamed of him hundreds of times, but this time it felt so real. The heat disappeared and I frowned. Don't wake up, Harry. Don't you dare wake up.

“Say it again” a soft voice invaded my consciousness and I forced my eyes to open. The room was dark and I was lying on a strange bed. The heat returned, and my eyes darted to my waist, where a beautiful creature moved between my spread legs. He put my cock back in his mouth. All at once, the memory of the night before came into my mind, and the sleep fog began to dissipate quickly.

“Louis?” no way would I be lucky enough for this to be real. He must have gotten up at night to turn off the bathroom light - the room was so dark that I could barely see him. My hands searched for him and my fingers traveled his lips around my cock. He went up and down with his mouth, his tongue circled and his teeth scraped slightly against my penis with each movement. His hand touched my balls and I groaned loudly when he gently stroked using the full length of his palm.

The feeling of seeing my dreams and the reality becoming one thing was so intense that I didn't know if I could take it for long. He straightened up and his fingers touched a spot just below, making me groan between clenched teeth. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I ran my fingers through his hair, face and chin. He closed his eyes and increased the suction, bringing me closer and closer to the abyss. The combination of his mouth with my cock and the finger pressing just below it was incredible, but I wanted him on top of me, that mouth on mine, sucking on my lips as I buried myself in it.

I sat on the bed and pulled him onto my lap, wrapping my legs around my hips. Our bare breasts pressed against each other, I took his face in my hands and looked him in the eye.

“That was the best way to wake up ever.”

He laughed a little, licking his lips until they showed a delicious shine. I lowered my hands and placed my cock at his entrance, lifting it slightly. With a single movement, I entered him. His forehead fell on my shoulder and his hips thrust forward, making me penetrate even deeper. Being with him in a bed seemed unreal. He began to ride me lazily, moving in small movements. He kissed every inch of my neck, sucking and biting the skin. Brief phrases permeated every movement of the squadrons.

"...I like being on top of you," he was panting. “You're going so deep. Are you feeling?”

“Yeah.”

“Faster?”

I shook my head, absolutely lost.

“No,  _ God _ . No.”

For a while, he continued slowly, in small circles, his teeth going up and down my neck. But then, he came even closer, whispering:

"I'm going to come,  _ Harreh _ ," and instead of dropping a list of expletives to describe what it made me feel, I bit his shoulder and sucked until his skin was red.

Moving faster, he started to speak. Words that I could barely process. Words about my body inside him, the need he felt for me. Words about my taste and how hard he was. Words about wanting my orgasm, needing my orgasm.

With each step of your hips, the pressure started to build. I grabbed it tightly, fearing it would leave marks with every movement of my hands, and increased the thrusts. He moaned and writhed over me, and just when I thought I could no longer hold on, Louis shouted my name and I felt his spasms. The intensity of his orgasm triggered mine, and I buried my face in his neck, stifling a loud growl in his skin.

He collapsed on top of me and I laid our bodies on the bed. We were sweaty, breathless and completely exhausted. His image was perfection.

I pulled him to me, his back against my chest, and wrapped my arms around him, intertwining our legs. He murmured something I didn't understand, but fell asleep before I could ask. Something changed that night, and when my eyes closed, my last thought was that we would have plenty of time to talk the next day.

But when the morning light started to invade the room, I had a strange feeling when I realized that tomorrow had already arrived.


	17. Chapter 17

**• Louis •**

Consciousness knocked on the door of my sleeping mind, but I tried to keep it away. I didn't want to wake up. I was happy, comfortable and warm.

Vague visions of my dream wandered behind my closed eyes. The blanket I hugged was the warmest, most fragrant blanket I had ever had the pleasure of sleeping in - because it hugged me back. Something hot pressed against me. My eyes opened and focused on strands of familiarly disheveled hair just inches from my face. Hundreds of memories popped up that second, when last night's reality crashed over my confused brain.

Shit.

It was real.

My heart sped up when I lifted my head to see that beautiful man hugging my body. His head was lying on my chest, his perfect mouth, slightly open, letting gusts of hot air escape my bare skin. His long body was lying beside me, our legs were intertwined and his strong arms wrapped tightly around my torso.

He stayed.

The intimacy of our position hit me so hard that I even ran out of breath. He didn't just stay, he held on to me.

I found it difficult to breathe again and to avoid panicking. I was very aware of every inch where our skins touched. I could feel the powerful beat of his heart against my chest. His cock was pressed against my thigh, semi-erect in his sleep. My fingers burned with the urge to touch him. My lips wanted to kiss his hair. That was too much for me. He was too much. Something had changed the night before and I didn't know if I was ready to deal with it. I also didn't know what that change was, but it had happened. With each movement, each touch, each word and each kiss that night, we were together. No one has ever made me feel this way, as if my body is made to fit another.

I had been with other men before, but with him I felt like I was being dragged by an invisible tide, completely unable to change direction. I closed my eyes, trying to subdue the growing sense of panic. I did not regret what had happened. Everything had been - as always - intense and definitely the best sex he'd ever had. I just needed a few minutes alone before I could face him. Putting one hand in his hair and the other on his back, I managed to get him off me. He started to fidget and I froze. I hugged him back and tried to stop him from waking up. He murmured my name before his breath started to calm down again, so I slid out.

I watched him sleep for a moment, feeling my panic recede a little, and once again I was amazed by his beauty. In his sleep, his expression was calm and peaceful, very different from what he used to show in my presence. A lock of hair was hanging over his forehead and my fingers wanted to fix it. Long lashes, perfect face, soft lips and a defined jaw that screamed for kisses and bites.  _ My God, he's handsome. _

I started to walk to the bathroom, but I caught a glimpse of my own reflection in the bedroom mirror and stopped. Wow. The image of who just had sex. This was definitely how I looked. I approached and examined the small red marks scattered on my neck, shoulders, chest and belly.

A small bite was visible just below my left nipple, plus a redness on my shoulder. Looking down, I ran my fingers over the red marks on the inside of my thighs. My nipples hardened when I remembered the sensation of his tongue scraping against my skin. My hair was all disheveled, and I bit my lip when I remembered his hands plunged into it. The way he pulled me first for a kiss and then for his dick…

This is not helping.

I was removed from my thoughts by a deep, sleepy voice.

“Are you already up and stressing?”

I turned and got a quick glimpse of his naked body as he settled himself on the sheets before sitting and covering himself, leaving only his torso exposed. I would never tire of seeing - and feeling - his broad, muscular chest, his mottled abdomen and that path of happiness, which led to the most gloriously well endowed man I had ever met. When my eyes finally reached his face, I frowned at the sight of his mischievous smile.

"I caught you looking," he murmured, rubbing his hand over his chin.

I didn't know whether to smile or roll my eyes. Seeing him like that, vulnerable and half awake, was disconcerting. We hadn't closed the curtains the day before, and now the morning sun was shining brightly against the tangle of sheets. He looked so different - he was still my stupid boss, but he also looked like someone else: a man, in my bed, looking ready for the... fourth? Fifth round? I had already lost count.

When his eyes roamed over every part of my body, I remembered that I was also completely naked. At that moment, his expression seemed as intense as his touches. I thought briefly that if he continued with that look, my skin would burn. Could that have the same effect on me as his touch?

I changed my expression to hide the fact that I was mentally cataloging every inch of his skin, so I bent down to pick up his white t-shirt on the floor. It had been in front of the air conditioner all night and because of that it was a little cold, but, thank God, it was practically dry. When I ran the cotton fabric over my head, I smelled the herbal scent on his skin, so I reemerged and found his dark look glued to me.

He wet his lips with his tongue and growled softly:

“Come here.”

I approached the bed with the intention of sitting next to him, but he pulled me onto his lap and said:

“Say what you're thinking”

Did he want me to sum up a million thoughts in one sentence? That man was crazy. Then, I opened my mouth and released the first thought that came up:

"You said you haven't been with anyone else since we… were together." I looked at his chest to avoid his eyes. “Is that true?”

Finally, I looked up.

He nodded and slid his fingers under the shirt, running his hands slowly over my waist and stomach.

“Why?” I asked.

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“I didn't want to be with anyone else.”

I didn't know how to interpret that. Did he mean that he had not found anyone he wanted, but that he was open to possibilities?

“Do you always choose monogamy when you're seeing someone?”

He shrugged.

“If that's the expectation.”

Harry kissed along my shoulders, reached the chest and went up the neck. I reached over and took a bottle of water from the nightstand, took a sip and offered it. He took the rest of the water in a few long sips.

“Are you thirsty?”

“Yes. And a little hungry too.”

“No surprise, we haven't eaten since…” I stopped when he wiggled his eyebrows and smiled with the corner of his mouth.

I rolled my eyes, but I had to close them when he came over and kissed me sweetly on the lips.

“The expectation here is monogamy?” I asked.

“After what happened last night, I think you need to tell me.”

I didn't know how to respond. I no longer knew if I could stay with him that way, and I knew even less about monogamy. Thinking about how it could work made my mind spin. Could we be... friends? Would he really say "good morning"? Would he feel safe to criticize my work?

He stretched his fingers over my back, pressing my body to his side and pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Never take this shirt off," he whispered.

"Deal done." I stretched back, improving his mouth's access to my neck. “I'll wear this and nothing else in our meeting later.”

His laugh was serious and amusing.

“No way.”

“What time is it?” I asked, trying to see the clock behind him.

“Screw the clock” his fingertips found my nipples and played on the bristly skin. He brought his lips to my ear and whispered: “ _ Je ne regrette rien _ .”

My eyes darted towards his face, and my blood boiled at the sound of his voice dissolving into perfect French pronunciation.

“What did you say?”

He smiled out of the corner of his mouth.

" _ Je ne regrette rien _ ," he said the words slowly, emphasizing each syllable. It was the sexiest thing I had ever heard in my life.

In the midst of it all, I thought it would spontaneously combust.

“Isn't that a song?”

"Yes, it's a song," he nodded, and laughed a little.

"Say it again," I whispered.

He moved closer, fitting his hips further into my body, his breath warm in my ear, and whispered again. “ _ Je ne regrette rien _ . You understand? I do not regret anything.”

I nodded.

“Say something else.”

I was breathing hard, my sensitive nipples scraping against the cotton of the shirt. Leaning slightly, he kissed my ear and said:

“ _ Je suis à toi _ ” his voice was even deeper and almost cracking as his cock was held up to me, so I ended our agony and plunged it inside with a groan, again loving the depth of that position. He whispered a single profane syllable in French again and again, staring at my face. Instead of holding my hips, his hands gripped the shirt on either side of my body. It was so easy, so natural between us, that somehow it increased an uneasiness that I could not keep away from. Instead of thinking about it, I focused on his muffled grunts in my mouth.

I concentrated on the way he suddenly sat us down and sucked my nipples over the top of the shirt, exposing the pink skin under the fabric. I lost myself in the urgency of his fingers on my thighs and waist, his forehead pressed to the base of my neck when he approached the climax. I lost myself in the sensation of his thighs beneath me, his hips moving faster and harder and more closely to keep up with my movements. Turning my body over, he rested his hand fully stretched across my chest and his hips slowed to a stop.

“Your heart is racing.  _ Say how much you are enjoying this _ .”

I relaxed instinctively as I looked at his smug smile. Did he know that I would need help remembering who he had been less than a day ago?

“You're talking like that again. Stop this.”

His smile widened.

“You love it when I talk like that. Especially when my dick is inside you.” I rolled my eyes.

“What denounced me? Orgasms? The way I beg you? Congratulations, you're  _ practically  _ a detective.”

He blinked, pulling my foot over his shoulder and kissing my heel.

“Were you always like that?” I asked, uselessly pulling on his hips. I hated to admit it, but I wanted him to keep moving. When he stopped, I felt the provocation, the burning, the feeling of something incomplete. And when it moved, I just wanted time to stop. “I feel sorry for everyone whose egos were smashed along the way.”

Harry shook his head, leaning over me and leaning on his hands. Thank goodness, he started to move. The hips went up, entering me deeply. My eyes closed. He hit the perfect spot again, again and again.

"Look at me," he whispered.

I looked up, watched the sweat on his eyebrows and his lips part when he looked at my mouth. The muscles in his shoulders tightened with his movements, his torso glistened with a thin layer of sweat. I put my gaze where it moved in and out of me. I don't know what I said when he took most of it out and then slammed it back into me, but it was some dirty murmur and instantly forgotten as he attacked that spot.

“ _ You _ make me feel convinced. It's the way you react that makes me feel like a damn god. How can you not see this?”

I didn't respond and he clearly didn't expect me to respond - his gaze and the fingers of a hand explored my neck and shoulders. He found an especially sensitive place and I gasped.

"Looks like someone took a bite out of you," he said, rubbing his thumb over his teeth. “Did you like it?”

I swallowed, bringing our bodies together.

“Yes.”

“Dirty boy.”

My hands slid over his shoulders and down to his chest, over his belly and over his hip muscles. My thumb stroking each of the countless tattoos.

“I like that too.”

His movements became more wild and violent.

“Oh, shit, Louis... I can't... I can't take it anymore.”

Hearing his voice so desperate and out of control only intensified my desire for him. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the delicious sensation that was beginning to spread through my body. I was very close, almost there. I lowered my hand between us and my fingers found my member, which I started to rub slowly. He lowered his head, looked at my hand and swore.

"Oh, shit," his voice was desperate, his breathing labored. “Go, touch yourself, I want to see you” his words were all I needed and, with one last swipe of my fingers, I felt the orgasm overpower me.

I came hard, squeezing him around me and dirtying our abs, the nails of my free hand digging into his back. He screamed, and his body went out of control when he came inside me too. My whole body shook in the next few moments, even when the orgasm dissipated. I grabbed his body when he stopped, sinking over me. He kissed my shoulder and neck before planting a single kiss on my lips. Our eyes met briefly, and then he rolled over.

"My God, boy," he said, exhaling a heavy breath and forcing a laugh. “You'll end up killing me.”

We each rolled to one side, head on the pillows, and when our eyes met I couldn't look away. I lost any hope that next time everything would be less powerful, or that our connection would somehow diminish if we just had sex until we were tired. That "truce" had not helped. I already wanted to come over again, kiss and pull him back to me. As I stared at him, it was clear to me that it would hurt a lot when this was over. Fear took over my heart and the previous panic hurt returned, bringing an uncomfortable silence. I sat up, pulling the sheets up to my chin.

“Oh, fuck…”

His hand shot out and grabbed my arm.

“Louis, I can't…”

“We probably need to get ready” I interrupted what could be the beginning of a million ways to break my heart. “We have presentations to see in twenty minutes.” He looked confused for a moment before speaking:

“I don't have any clean clothes here. I don't even know where my room is.”

I felt my face flush as I remembered how fast everything had happened the day before.

“Right. I'll use your key and bring you something.”

I went into the bathroom, took a quick shower and wrapped a towel around my body, thinking I should have brought a bathrobe. I took a deep breath, opened the door and went back to the bedroom. He was sitting on the bed and his eyes went up to my face.

“I just need…” I gestured towards my suitcase. He nodded, but remained silent. I generally don't feel ashamed of my body, but standing there wearing only a towel and knowing that he was watching me, I felt strangely shy.

I grabbed a few things and hurried past him, stopping just in the safety of the bathroom. I got dressed faster than I thought possible. I took the key over the sink, went back to the room.

He didn't move. Sitting on the end of the bed with his elbows resting on his thighs, he seemed lost in thought. What was he thinking? All morning I had been a nervous wreck, my emotions shifting fiercely from one extreme to the other, but he seemed so calm. So safe. But what was he sure of?

What would he have decided?

“Do you want me to bring you some clothes in particular?”

When he raised his head, he looked slightly surprised, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him.

“Um... I only have a few meetings this afternoon, right?” I nodded. “Whatever you choose is fine.” It took me just a second to find his room, which was right next to mine.  _ Great _ . Now I could imagine him on the bed just behind my wall. His bags were already there and I stopped briefly, realizing that I would have to go through his things.

I lifted the biggest one, put it on the bed and unzipped it. His perfume enveloped me and caused a great twinge of desire in my body. I started looking for the neatly folded clothes. Everything that belonged to him was so neat and organized, and it made me wonder what his home would be like. I had never thought about it much, but suddenly I wondered if I would ever see it, if I would ever be in his bed. I stopped when I realized that I wanted to. Would he like to see me there?

I deflected those thoughts and kept looking for the clothes. I chose a Helmut Lang suit, white shirt, black silk tie, underwear, socks and shoes. After putting the rest back, I gathered up the clothes he would wear and started to go back to my room. I couldn't stop laughing nervously when I entered the hall, shaking my head because of the absurdity of the situation. Fortunately, I pulled myself together before opening the door. So I took two steps into the room and froze. He was standing in front of the open window, covered by sunlight. Each sculptural line was accentuated in perfect detail by the shadows cast on its body. A towel was indecently wrapped around his waist.

“Did you see anything you liked?”

I reluctantly turned my attention back to his face.

“I…”

My eyes dropped again to his waist, as if they were attracted to a magnet.

“I said: did you see anything you liked?” He crossed the room, stopping right in front of me.

"I heard it the first time," I said, feeling my face flush. “And no, I was just lost in thought.”

“And what exactly were you thinking?” He stretched his arm, moving a lock of hair that insisted on falling on mine. Just that simple touch made my stomach churn.

“That we have an agenda to keep.”

He took a step towards me.

“Why don't I believe you?”

“Because... you are an egocentric?” I said, looking back at him.

He raised an eyebrow and watched me for a moment before taking his clothes from my hand and putting them on the bed. Before I could move, he took the towel off his waist and tossed it aside.  _ Oh, my God _ . If there was a better man on this planet, I would pay to see him. He took his underwear and started putting it on, but stopped and looked at me again.

“Didn't you just say we have an agenda to keep?” He asked, looking at me as if he was enjoying himself. “Unless, of course, you saw something you liked.”  _ Son of… _

I narrowed my eyes and turned quickly, going back to the bathroom to finish getting ready. While drying my hair, I couldn't help the strange feeling that he had tried to say something more than "look at my naked body".

Before I even scrambled my own feelings, I was already trying to guess his. Would I be concerned if, if there was a choice, he would choose to stay here with me?

When I left the bathroom, he was already dressed and waiting, looking out the big window. He turned, walked over to me and placed his warm hands on my face, staring at me intently.

“I need you to hear something.”

I swallowed.

“Okay.”

“I don't want to go out that door and lose what we found here in this room.”

His simple words shook me. He wasn't declaring himself, he wasn't promising anything, but he said exactly what I needed to hear. Maybe we didn't know what it was between us, but we wouldn't leave it unfinished. Letting out a shaky breath, I put my hand on my chest.

“Me neither, but I don't want your career to end mine.”

“I don't want that either.”

I agreed, feeling the words tangle in my thoughts, and was unable to think of anything articulate to add.

"Okay," he said, looking me up and down. “So let's go.”


	18. Chapter 18

**• Harry •**

The theme of the conference that year was "The next generation of marketing strategies" and, in an attempt to attract new generations, the organizers set up a panel for students on the first day. Most of the colleagues in Louis's program were there, standing beside the panels that explained their work. Actually, presenting the work at this conference was considered a requirement for his scholarship, but I applied for an exception because his main project, the Papadakis account, was large and confidential. No other student there was managing a millionaire account.

The board of directors of the exchange was happy to allow the exception, practically drooling over the possibility that, as soon as they could, use Louis' success story in their advertising brochure. But, although he was not going to present anything, he insisted on walking through all the corridors and visiting all the stands. And since I was unable to keep myself within two meters of him and had no meeting before ten o'clock, I followed him the whole time, counting panels (576) and looking at his butt (straight, perfect for a slap, in the wearing black dress pants).

He mentioned in the elevator that his best friend, Niall, was the one who provided most of the clothes that I loved / hated. I tried to convince him that we needed to go back to my room to get something, but he just raised an eyebrow and asked:

“Get something? Or  _ do  _ something?”

I ignored him, but now I wish I had admitted that I needed another round before the conference. Would he accept it?

“Would you have gone back to the room?” I asked in his ear, as he carefully read a graduate paper on repositioning a cell phone company's brand. For the love of God, the graphics were glued to a cardboard.

“Shh…”

“Louis, you will not learn anything from this poster. Let's have coffee and maybe a blowjob in the bathroom.”

“Your father once told me that it is impossible to predict where you can find your best ideas, and that you should always read everything you can. Furthermore, these are the work of my colleagues.” I waited, fixing the cuff link on my shirt, but he apparently wouldn't comment on the last part of my invitation.

“My father doesn't know what he says anymore.”

He laughed, of course. My father has been on all of the best CEO lists since he was born.

“It doesn't have to be a blowjob. I could fuck you against the wall,” I whispered, clearing my throat and looking around to make sure no one would hear me. “Or I could lie on the floor, spread my legs and let you come deep inside me.”

He shuddered, smiled at the student near the poster next to him and came over to read. The student pointed in my direction.

“Excuse me, but aren't you Harry Styles?”

I nodded and absently shook his hand as I watched Louis walk away.

* * *

That corridor was practically empty, with the exception of the students next to their jobs. Even they began to move to more interesting areas, where the big companies - most of which sponsored the event - had set up large stands in an attempt to expand the student panel. I saw Louis write something in his notebook: _Repositioning for Jenkins Financial?_

I watched his hand and then his face, which showed a thoughtful expression. Jenkins Financial's account was not part of his portfolio. It wasn't even an account I took care of. It was a small account, usually organized anyway by one of the junior executives. Did he know the difficulties that this account was experiencing with our jurassic marketing plan?

Before I could ask, he turned and went to the next exhibition, and I was amazed to see him working. I had never allowed myself to observe him so openly - my low-key spying had shown him to be brilliant and obstinate, but I had never realized the extent of his knowledge of the company. I wanted to praise him somehow, but the words got lost in my brain and I was strangely defensive, as if a compliment was somehow breaking my strategy.

“Your handwriting has improved.”

He smiled at me, clicking the tip of the pen.

“Screw you.”

My cock woke up in my pants.

“You're wasting my time here.”

“Then why don't you go to the reception to suck up some executive? They serve breakfast over there. There are even those chocolate muffins that you pretend you don't like.”

“Because that's not what I want to eat.”

A small smile appeared in the corner of his mouth. He looked at my face as another student introduced herself to me.

"I've followed your career forever," said the girl, almost out of breath. “I watched your presentation here last year.”

I smiled and shook her hand as briefly as I could without being rude.

“Thank you.”

Louis and I walked to the end of the hall and I grabbed his elbow.

“I have one more hour before my meeting. Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?”

Finally, he looked at me. His pupils were so big that his eyes almost looked black, and he licked his lips, making them even more seductive.

“I think you need to take me upstairs and show me.”

* * *

Louis was still looking for a new boxer when I was already five minutes late for my meeting. It would be a meeting with Ed Gugliotti, a marketing executive for a small company in Minneapolis. We used Ed's company to do smaller jobs, and I had a significantly bigger project that I was considering passing on to him, to see how they did. When I zipped up my pants, I reminded myself that Ed, too, was always late for everything.

But not that time. He was already waiting for me in one of the hotel's conference rooms, with two assistants at his side, grinning at me.

I hate to be late.

"Ed," I said, shaking his hand. He introduced me to the assistants, Daniel and Sam. They shook my hand, but in Sam’s turn, his attention was focused on the door behind me. Louis had just entered. He was extremely beautiful, but in a very professional way, miraculously hiding the fact that he had just had a huge orgasm on the table in his room.

Gugliotti and his men watched in silence as he approached, pulled out a chair and sat next to me, turning to me and smiling. His lips were red and swollen, and a slight red mark was apparent on his chin. Perfect.

I cleared my throat until everyone finally looked at me.

“Let’s begin!”

* * *

It was a simple meeting, the kind of thing I did a thousand times. I described the account in general and not confidential terms, and it is clear that Gugliotti told me that his team would be able to create something excellent. After meeting the man he chose for the task, I agreed. We set up a new meeting for the next day, when I would present the bill with all the details and deliver the work officially. The meeting ended in less than fifteen minutes, leaving a long time before the next meeting, which would be at two o'clock. I looked at Louis and raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"Lunch," he said, laughing. “Let's eat something.”

The rest of the afternoon was productive, but I was completely on autopilot. If someone asked me any details about the meetings, it would take me a long time to remember anything. Thank goodness, Louis was there with his obsession with writing everything down. I met many colleagues, shook hundreds of hands, but the only touch I remembered was his.

He distracted me all the time, and what bothered me most was that it was different from normal. It was work, but it was a completely new world, where we could pretend that the circumstances were what we wanted. The desire to be close to him was even greater than when I needed to keep my distance. Looking at the speaker at the podium, I tried again, unsuccessfully, to redirect my thoughts to something productive. I was sitting right in front of the stage where I had been a speaker the year before, but I still couldn't concentrate.

I realized at a glance that he was adjusting and instinctively turned my face to look directly at him. When our eyes met, all the other sounds mixed and floated around me, but without entering my consciousness. Without thinking, I leaned toward him, he leaned over me, and a small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

I thought about that morning, and how apparent his panic had become. But I, on the contrary, had felt a strange calm, as if everything we had done before had led us to that very moment, when we could both understand how easy it was just to be.

A cell phone rang somewhere behind me and pulled me out of that trance, making me look away. I quickly leaned back in the chair, and was shocked to realize how much I was leaning forward. I looked around and froze when I saw a pair of unknown eyes looking at me.

This stranger had no idea who we were, or that Louis worked for me. He just looked at us and quickly looked away. But in that moment, every drop of guilt I was suppressing came crashing down on me. Everyone knew who I was, no one there knew him, and if people knew we were having sex, the judgment of an entire community would follow him for the rest of his career. A quick glance at Louis showed me that he could see the panic on my face. I spent the rest of the lecture looking forward.

“Are you alright?” He asked in the elevator, breaking the heavy silence that had accompanied us for fourteen floors.

“Yes, it's just…” I rubbed the back of my neck and avoided his eyes. “I'm just thinking.”

“I'm going out with some friends tonight.”

“It sounds like a good idea.”

“You have dinner with Stevenson and Newberry at seven. I think they will find you in that Japanese restaurant you like in the Gaslamp region.”

"I know," I said, relaxing when we fell into the mundane details of work. “What's the name of the assistant? She is always with them.”

“Andrew.”

I looked at him, confused.

“Um, I didn't remember that she was a man.”

“They have a new assistant.”

_ How the hell did he know that? _

Louis smiled.

“He sat next to me at the lecture and asked if I would be at dinner tonight.”

I wondered if those eyes that caught me staring at Louis were his, and if he would have asked that just because of the way I was looking at him. I stammered something before he interrupted me.

“I told him I had other plans.”

My discomfort returned. I wanted him with me for the rest of the night. Soon he would no longer be my intern.  _ Could I then be his lover? Could I still be his boss now? _

“You want to go?”

He shook his head, looking at the doors when we reached the 30th floor.

“I think I better continue with my plans.”

* * *

The short drive back from the restaurant was quiet and lonely, with only my confused thoughts as company. I walked through the great hall to the elevator, and automatically walked to Louis's room before remembering that I was not actually staying there. I couldn't remember what my room was and I tried three doors before giving up and going back to the reception. When I went back up, I realized that my room was right next to his room.

The rooms were identical, but completely different in a way that only I could know. That shower hadn't taken away all of our inhibitions last night; we don't sleep hugging each other in that bed. These walls did not hear the sound of him ending under me. This table was not broken because of a quickie in the morning.

I checked my cell phone and saw that I had two missed calls from my sister.  _ Great _ . Normally, I would have talked to my father and sister several times, telling them about meetings and potential clients. But, so far, I still haven't spoken to anyone. I had been afraid that they would realize that my mind was far from business that week.

It was after eleven o'clock and I wondered if he was still with his friends or if he would have returned. Maybe he was lying in bed awake, obsessed with all the things that I was, too. Without thinking, I picked up the phone and dialed his room number. After four calls, an electronic voice answered. I hung up and tried his cell phone.

He answered on the first ring.

“Mr. Styles?”

I shuddered. He was with other students. Of course he wouldn't call me Harry now.

“Hi. I... um, I just wanted to make sure you have a ride back to the hotel.”

I heard his laughter on the other end of the line, drowned out by the sound of voices and loud music.

“There must be seventy taxis out there. I'll get one when I'm gone.”

“And when are you leaving?”

“When Melissa finishes that drink and probably one more. And when Kim decides to dance with all the hot guys here. So you can expect me sometime between now and eight in the morning.”

“Are you trying to be funny?” I asked, feeling a smile break across my face.

“Yes.”

"Okay," I said, breathing heavily. “Just send a message when you get back safely.” He was silent for a moment and then said:

“I’ll do it.”

I hung up and left the phone on the bed beside me, then stared at the floor for probably an hour. I didn't even know what to do with myself.

Finally, I got up and went back to the lobby.

* * *

I was still in the lobby when he returned at two in the morning, his face flushed and a smile as he dropped the phone into his pocket. My cell phone started to vibrate in my hand and I looked at the message.

**Louis:** I’m back. Safe and sound.

I watched him walk straight past reception and approach where I was sitting, near the elevators. He stopped when he saw me with red eyes and a rumpled suit. I was sure my hair looked like a joke, because I was really worried. I suddenly had no idea why I was waiting for him to arrive as an anxious husband. I just knew that I didn't want to be the person who would decide that it wouldn't work between us, because, deep down, I wanted it to work.

“Harry?” he said, looking at his friend, who waved and walked to the elevator. I didn't give a damn what his friend was thinking, but I could feel her gaze on us until she got into the elevator. Louis was wearing tight black jeans that made me want to request that this be the new intern's uniform. I wanted to take the jeans off his body and fuck him on the couch until we couldn't breathe anymore.

"Hi," I murmured, amazed at the curves defined in front of me.

He approached, stopping just inches from me.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting.”

I struggled to hide how much he messed with me. At that moment my thoughts were barely separated from the fantasy of grabbing his hair, the way my thumbs could completely cover his small pink nipples, or how his entrance was the softest part of any body I had ever touched. I wanted to taste him from head to toe, saying all the ideas that occurred to me in the process.

“Are you drunk?”

I shook my head. Not the way you think.

“Someone saw me looking at you this afternoon”.

"I know." He reached out and ran his fingers through my hair. “In the lecture. I saw the way you were.”

“I panicked.”

Louis said nothing in response. He just laughed, a hoarse and soft sound at the same time.

“I'm not thinking about how it can affect me. I'm concerned about how it might affect you” I said.

I heard his breathing get heavier, I felt his fingers tighten on my hair. When I looked up at his face, he looked stunned.

How could he not realize how much I was involved? I was sure he could see it whenever I looked him in the eye. At that moment, as always, I wanted to grab him from behind and slap him when he made a sound. I wanted to pull his hair out when I came. Bite his chest again. Run my teeth down his back. Pinch the back of his thigh and then caress it with the softest touch of all.

But I also wanted to see him asleep, and then to see him wake up and see me, and I wanted to measure his feelings in that first reaction.

I started to realize that this wasn't just sex, and it wasn't just something that I needed to get out of my system. Sex was just the quickest way to the intense possession I wanted.  _ I was falling in love with him _ , faster and deeper than I thought it was even possible.

And I was terrified of that.

I decided to speak the truth.

“I need one more night.”

He held his breath and looked at me, and only then did it occur to me that he might be feeling something very different than I was.

“Feel free to say no. I just…” I ran my hand through my hair and looked at his face. “I just wanted to be with you again tonight.”

“You are very greedy, don't you think?”

“You have no idea.”

In his room, with his body clinging to mine between the sheets and receiving everything I had to give, the rest of the world seemed to no longer exist for me. His smell and sounds filled my brain, making me thrust harder and wilder.

He was soaked everywhere: the skin on the outside and the meat on the inside, soft and taking me deeper. His legs wrapped around my waist and he turned me around, laughing, riding my body with his back arched and his head thrown back. His skin glistened and I sat under him, needing to feel the scrape of his nipples bristling against my chest as he rose and fell. I pushed him back again, standing on top again, now with his legs resting on my shoulders and his mouth trembling as he tried to find words.

His nails dug into my back and I screamed, asking for more and wanting him to mark me, to leave something that would remain there the next day.

That night, he came once, and then he came again, and again, and I pulled on his hair, which was completely wild. I collapsed on him, uttering incoherent words as I came, trying to tell him what we both already knew: that anything that happened outside that room was irrelevant.


	19. Chapter 19

**• Louis •**

We slowly returned to orbit. Embraced under the sheets, we spent hours talking about our day, about the meeting with Mr. Gugliotti, about his dinner and my evening with friends. We talked about the broken table and about bringing boxers for just a week, which meant he couldn't tear any more.

We talked about everything except the damage it was doing to my heart. I ran a finger over his chest and he grabbed it, bringing it to his lips and saying:

“I like talking to you.”

I laughed, fixing the hair on his forehead.

“You talk to me every day. And when I say "talk", I mean "scream". Slam the doors. Pout…”

With his fingers, he drew circles on my belly, distracting me.

“You know what I mean.”

I knew it. I knew exactly what he meant, and I wanted to find a way to make this moment last longer, right there, into eternity.

“Then tell me something. Tell me something I don’t already know.”

He looked up at my face, smiling nervously.

“What you want to know?

“Honestly? I think I want to know everything. But let's start with an easy way. Tell the story of Harry's affairs.”

He ran a long finger over his eyebrow, laughing:

“Let's start with an easy way. Sure” cleared his throat and then looked at me. “Some in high school, some in college, some in graduate school. Some after that. And then, a long relationship when I lived in France.”

“Details?” I wrapped a lock of her hair around my finger, hoping I wasn't pushing too hard.

To my surprise, he responded without hesitation.

“Her name was Sylvie. She was a lawyer at a small firm in Paris. We were together for three years and parted a few months before I came home.”

“Is that why you moved back?”

A smile appeared in the corner of his mouth.

“No.”

“Did she break your heart?”

The smile finally opened in my direction.

“No,  _ Lou _ .”

“Did you break her heart?” why was I asking? Did I want him to answer... yes? I knew he was capable of breaking hearts. In fact, I was almost certain that mine would break. He leaned down to kiss me, focusing on my bottom lip for a few moments before whispering:

“No. We just didn't work anymore. My romantic life was totally drama free. Until you show up.”

I laughed.

“I'm glad to break the pattern.”

I could feel his laughter vibrating along my skin as he kissed my neck.

“Oh, and you really did” long fingers traveled my belly, my hips, and finally reached my entrance. “Your turn.”

“Of having an orgasm? _ Yes please _ .”

He circled lazily before sliding his finger inside. He knew my body better than I did. When did this happen?

"No," he murmured. “It's your turn to tell your story.”

“No way can I think of anything while you do this.” With a kiss on my shoulder, he moved his hand back to my belly, drawing circles again. I pouted, but he didn't see it because he was looking at his finger on my skin.

“God, I've had so many men in my life, where should I start?”

“ _Louis…_ ” he warned.

“A couple in high school, one in college.”

“You only had sex with three men?”

I pulled back to look at his face.

“Hey, Einstein. I had sex with four men.”

A smug smile spread across his face.

“Oh... Was I the best by a disconcertingly large margin?”

“Answer first if I was your best.”

His smile disappeared and he blinked, surprised.

“Yes.”

He was sincere. It made something inside me melt and become a little hot vibration. I leaned over to kiss him on the chin, trying to hide what that information had done to me.

“Good.”

Kissing his shoulders, I groaned with happiness. I loved his taste, I loved that herbal smell. Dipping my fingers into his hair, I pulled him back so I could bite his chin, his neck, his shoulder. But he stayed still, almost motionless, clearly not kissing me back. _ But why? _

He took a deep breath, opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again. Somehow I managed to keep my mouth away long enough to ask:

“What's it?”

“I know you think I'm a dick, but it matters to me.”

“What matters...?”

“I want to hear you say.”

I looked at him, and he looked back at me, his eyes starting to show a familiar greenish tone of irritation. Mentally recalling the last few minutes of the conversation, I tried to understand what he was talking about.  _ Ah _ .

“Ah. Yes.”

His eyebrows came together.

“Yes, what, Mr. Tomlinson?”

I felt a warmth run through my body. His voice was different when he said that. Bossy. Sexy.

“Yes, you are the best by a disconcertingly large margin.”

“I think it's really good.”

“At least so far.”

He rolled on top of me, grabbing my wrists and pinning them over my head.

“Don't tease me.”

“Don't tease?  _ Please!” _ I said, losing my breath. His cock pressed against my thigh. I wish it was higher. I wish he was entering me. - All we do is provoke!

As if to prove that I was wrong, he brought his free hand under the sheets, took his cock and guided it into me, pulling my leg around his waist. Keeping still, he looked at me. His upper lip trembled.

"Please move," I whispered.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“What if I don't move?”

I bit my lip and tried to look him in the eye.

He smiled and grunted:

“ _ This _ is teasing.”

“Please?” I tried to move my hips, but he followed my movements so I wouldn't get friction.

“Lou, I never tease you. I like to fuck until I drive you crazy.”

I laughed, and his eyes closed as my body tightened further.

"Not that you're very sane in the first place," he said, biting my neck. “Now, tell me how good I make you feel” there was something in his voice, a vulnerability at the end of the sentence, that made me realize that he wasn't kidding.

“Nobody ever made me come before. Whether with hands, mouth or anything else.” He had been motionless before, and you could see the signs that he was repressing something: his shoulders were shaking and his breathing was labored, as if his entire body wanted to explode under the sheets. But when I said that it froze completely.

“No one?”

"Just you." I leaned over and bit his chin. “I would say that puts you a little ahead of others.” He said my name when he released his breath and moved his hips forward and then back. And again, back and forth. The conversation was over. His mouth found mine, and then my chin, my face, my ear. His hand moved up my body, across his chest until it finally reached his face. And when I thought we were lost in rhythm and I already felt my climax approaching, and I buried my heels in his ass wanting more, faster, wanting him whole, and he whispered:

“I wish I had figured that out before.”

“Why?” I spoke with difficulty in the middle of my heavy breathing. Faster, my body screamed. More. “Would you have been less of a motherfucker to me?”

He took my legs from his waist and put me on my knees.

“Do not know. I just wanted to know before” he grunted, entering me again. “God. So deep…”

His movements were fluid, like a rippling water surface, like a ray of sunlight passing through a dark room. The bed springs creaked beneath us, the force of his thrusts pushing me across the mattress.

"Almost," I grabbed the sheets and begged him to continue. “Almost. Stronger!”  _ Shit _ . It is so close. “Go” he synchronized each movement with the last, knowing that that was the point from which there was no turning back.

His face, his voice, his smell - every part of him filled my mind when I obediently came under him.

He thrust hard, then all his muscles froze and he melted into me when he came too.

"Shit, shit,  _ shit _ ..." He blew out of my hair before he fell, heavy and silent, on top of me. The air conditioner turned on automatically and hummed. After catching his breath, Harry rolled onto his side, running a hand over my sweaty back.

“Louis?”

“Hmm?”

When he spoke, his voice was so deep and heavy that I wasn't sure if he was awake.

“I want more than this.”

I froze and my thoughts exploded into a chaotic mess.

“What did you say?”

He opened his eyes, with apparent effort, and looked at me.

“I want to  _ be  _ with you.”

Supporting my body on my elbow, I stared at him, completely unable to produce a single word.

His eyes closed, he put his heavy arm over me and pulled me close. “Boy, come here” he pressed his face to my neck and murmured: “It's okay if you don't want to. I accept anything you say. Just let me stay here until tomorrow, right?”

Suddenly, I was more than awake and stared into the dark void, listened to the hum of the air conditioner. I was terrified thinking that it would change everything, and even more terrified thinking that maybe he didn't know what he was talking about and that it wouldn't change anything.

“Right.” I whispered in the darkness.

* * *

I rolled over and hugged a pillow, seeking comfort. His scent woke me up, but the cold sheets on the other side of the bed told me that I was alone. I looked at the bathroom door, trying to hear any sound from inside. There was none.

I continued to lie there, hugging his pillow while my eyes grew heavy. I wanted to wait for him. I needed the safety of his warm body beside me and I needed to feel his strong arms around me. I imagined him hugging me, whispering that it was real and that nothing would change that morning. Soon my eyes closed and I fell back into an uneasy sleep.

Some time later, I woke up again, still alone. Rolling quickly to the side, I looked at the clock: five-fifteen in the morning.

What? Searching in the darkness, I put on the first thing I found and walked to the bathroom door.

“Harry?” no reply. I knocked softly on the door. “Harry?” I heard a grunt and something moving slightly on the other side of the door.

"Just go." His voice was hoarse, echoing off the bathroom walls.

“Harry, are you okay?”

“I'm not feeling well. I'll get better, just go back to bed.”

“Can I bring something?”

“I am fine. Just, please, go back to bed.”

“But…”

"Louis..." he growled, obviously annoyed.

I turned around, not knowing what to do, fighting a bad feeling. Was he really sick? In just under a year, I had never seen him have even a cold. It was obvious that he didn't want me leaning against the door, but I also couldn't just go back to bed.

Instead, I straightened the sheets and went into the suite's living room. I took a bottle of water from the minibar and sat on the sofa.

If he was feeling sick, I mean, really feeling sick, he wouldn't be able to attend the meeting with Gugliotti in a few hours.

I turned on the television and started zapping between channels. Infomercial. Bad movie. Nickelodeon. Ah, the more stupid the better. Relaxing on the couch, I folded my legs under my body and prepared to wait. In the middle of the film, I heard water running in the bathroom. I sat and listened, since it was the first sound in over an hour. The bathroom door opened and I flew off the couch, grabbed another bottle of water and entered the room.

“Are you feeling better?”

"Yes. I think I just need to sleep now." He collapsed on the bed and buried his face in the pillow.

“What... What did you have?” I put the water bottle on the nightstand and sat on the corner of the bed.

“It's my stomach. I think it was the dinner sushi” his eyes were closed and, even in the dim light that came from the other room, I could see that he looked bad. He pulled away from me a little, but I ignored him and put one hand in his hair and the other on his face. Her hair was wet and her face was pale and sweaty. Despite the initial reaction, he relaxed with my touch.

“Why didn't you wake me up?” I asked, moving some wet locks from his forehead. "Because the last thing I needed was for you to be there watching me throw up," he replied crossly. I rolled my eyes, offering the water bottle.

“I could have done something. You don't have to be so  _ macho _ .”

“And you don't have to act like my mother. What could you do? Spoiled food is something one has to take care of alone.”

“Well… Should I call Gugliotti?”

He grunted and rubbed his hand over his face.

“ _ Shit _ . What time is it?”

I looked at the clock.

“Seven and a half.”

“What time is the meeting?”

“At eight.”

He started to get up, but I easily got him to lie down again.

“No way are you going to that meeting like that! When was the last time you threw up?”

He snarled.

“A few minutes ago.”

“Exactly.  _ No way _ . I'll call to reschedule.”

He grabbed my arm before I could approach the table to pick up the phone.

“Louis. You’ll do the meeting.”

I raised my eyebrows almost to the hairline.

“How is it?”

He waited.

“I’ll do the meeting?”

He nodded.

“Without you?”

He nodded again.

“Are you going to send me to a meeting  _ alone _ ?”

“Tomlinson, how smart you are!”

“Screw you!” I said, laughing and pushing him gently. “And I won't do it without you.”

“Why not? I bet you know the account as well as I do. Also, if we reschedule, he'll end up making a trip to Chicago with everything paid for and then send us the bill. _ Please, Lou _ .”

I stared at his face, waiting for him to start smiling and say he was kidding. But he wasn't. And, in fact, I did know the account, and I knew the whole procedure. I could do that.

"Okay," I said, smiling and feeling that it might be possible to resolve our situation, after all. “I'm in.”

His face became serious and he used a voice that I had barely heard in the past few days. It sent little waves of desire through my body.

“Tell me your plan, Tomlinson.”

Nodding, I said:

“I need to make sure he knows the parameters and deadlines of the project. I will keep an eye out for exaggerated promises, I know that Gugliotti is famous for doing this” when Harry nodded, smiling a little, I continued. “I will confirm the start dates of the contract and the presentations.”

When I finished counting these five items on my fingers, his smile widened.

“You will do well.”

I leaned over and kissed his sweaty forehead.

“I know.”

* * *

Two hours later, if you asked me if I could fly, I would instantly say yes. Everything was perfect at the meeting. Mr. Gugliotti, who initially did not like to find an intern in the place of a Styles Media executive, softened after hearing the circumstances. And later he seemed impressed with the level of detail that I provided.

He even offered me a job.

“Of course, after you're done with mr. Styles” he said with a wink, and I politely smiled back.

I didn't know if I really wanted to be done with Mr. Styles.

On the way back from the meeting, I called Anne and asked what Harry liked to do when he was sick. As I suspected, the last time she had been able to treat him with chicken soup and ice cream had been in high school.

She was delighted to receive my call, and I had to swallow the guilt when she asked if he was behaving. I made sure that everything was going well and that he only had indigestion and, of course, that I would tell him to call. With a grocery bag in my hand, I went into the bedroom and stopped in the kitchen area to store my food and take off my linen coat. Wearing only my underwear, I entered the room, but Harry was not there. The bathroom door was open, but he wasn't there either. It looked like the maid had tidied the room, the sheets were clean and folded, and our clothes were no longer strewn on the floor. The balcony door was open, letting in a breeze. Outside, I found him sitting on a chair, with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He looked like he had showered and was wearing dark jeans and a green short-sleeved t-shirt.

My skin prickled with his image.

"Hi," I said.

He looked up and his eyes went over every curve of mine.

“Damn it. I hope you didn't use that at the meeting.”

"Well, I did," I said, laughing. “But I wore it under a beautiful navy blue coat.”

"Well," he pulled me close, completely wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing his forehead to my stomach. “I missed you.”

I felt a small twinge in my chest. What were we doing? Was that real or were we playing house for a few days and then going back to normal? I didn't know if I could get back to normal after that, and I didn't know what the future would be like.

_ Ask him, Louis! _

His gaze burned my face as he waited for me to say something.

“Are you feeling better?”

_ Coward. _

His face showed a little disappointment, but he soon hid it.

“Yes. How was the meeting?”

Although I was still excited about the meeting and dying to tell every detail, he removed his arms from my waist and tidied himself up on the chair when he asked this, and I had an irrational feeling of cold and emptiness. I wanted to go back two minutes when he said he missed me, and then I could say "I missed you too". I would kiss him and we would end up being distracted, and I would tell him about Gugliotti just hours later.

But instead I told you all the details of the meeting - how Gugliotti reacted when he saw me, and how I redirected his focus to the project. I told each aspect of the discussion in such detail that, at the end of my story, Harry was laughing softly.

“My God, you talk too much.”

"I think everything went well," I said, taking a step forward.  _ Wrap your arms around me again _ . But he did not do that. He leaned back in his chair and showed a hard smile, the kind he did when he played the  _ Beautiful Bastard _ .

“You were great, Louis. I'm not at all surprised.”

I wasn't used to that kind of compliment coming from him. Improved handwriting, a good blow - those were the things he knew how to notice. And I was surprised to realize how much his opinion mattered to me. Had it always been this way? Would he start treating me differently if we became lovers instead of just having casual sex? I didn't know if I really wanted him to be a more polite boss, or to try to mix the role of mentor and lover. The truth is that I really liked the  _ Beautiful Bastard _ at work, and also in bed.

But as soon as I thought about it, I realized that now the way we interacted before seemed distant, like a pair of shoes that no longer fit on the feet. I was torn between wanting him to say something stupid, throwing me back to reality, and wanting him to pull me close and kiss me leisurely.

_ Again, Louis. That is the number 750,000 reason for not having sex with your boss. You end up turning a well-defined relationship into a mess where the boundaries are unclear. _

"You look so tired," I whispered when I started to run my fingers through the hair behind his neck.

"I am," he murmured. “I'm glad I didn't go. I vomited. A lot.”

"Thanks for telling me," I laughed. Reluctantly, I walked away and put my hands on his face. “I brought ice cream, soda and crackers. Which do you want first?”

He looked at my face, completely confused for a moment.

_ “Have you called my mom?” _

* * *

I went down to the convention for a few hours in the afternoon so he could get some sleep. He was trying to show a strong exterior, but I could see from a distance that just a little ice cream made his stomach churn. Furthermore, at that particular convention he could barely take two steps without being stopped and pampered. Even without being sick he would not be able to concentrate on anything that was worthwhile. When I returned to the bedroom, he was sprawled on the couch in a pose that was nothing irresistible: shirtless and with his hand in his underwear. There was something so common about the way he was sitting, bored, looking at the television. I was grateful for the reminder that that man was sometimes just a man. Just another person, walking around the world, taking care of his things, without spending every second setting fire to the lives of others.

And, in the midst of this epiphany that Harry was  _ just Harry _ , I got a crazy feeling that there was a chance that he was becoming  _ My Harry _ . And for a moment, I wished for that more than anything in the world.

A woman with impossibly shiny hair turned her head and smiled at us on television. I collapsed on the couch next to him.

“What are you watching?”

"Shampoo commercial," he replied, taking his hand out of his underwear to touch me. I started making a joke about the hand in the underwear, but stopped the moment he started to massage my fingers. “But "The Clerk" just started.”

“This is one of my favorite movies.”

“I know. You were talking about this movie the first time I saw you.”

"Actually, I was talking about the sequence," I clarified, and then stopped. “Wait, do you remember that?”

“Of course I remember. You sounded like a teenager talking, but you looked like a model. What man wouldn't remember that?”

“I would give anything to know what you were thinking at that time.”

“I was thinking  _ "Highly eatable intern ahead. Back off, soldier. Back off." _ ”

I laughed and leaned against his shoulder.

“God, that first meeting was terrible.”

He said nothing, but continued to run his thumb over my fingers, pressing and caressing. I had never received a hand massage before, and if he tried to start oral sex, I might refuse just to get on with it.

_ Wow, what a big lie. I would accept that mouth on my dick at any time of the day... _

“How do you want things to be, Lou?” He asked, taking my mind off that internal debate.

“What?”

“When we get back to London.”

I stared at his face, feeling the blood pumping hard through my veins.

"Things between us," he added, with forced patience. “ _ You and I. Louis and Harry _ . Cat and mouse. I know this must not be easy for you.”

“Well, I'm sure I don't want to fight all the time” I tapped his shoulder playfully. “Although I even like this part a little.”

Harry laughed, but it didn't sound completely happy.

“There is a lot of space after  _ "not fighting all the time" _ . How do you want to stay?”

_ Together _ . I want to be your boyfriend. Someone who sees the interior of your home and stays there from time to time. I started to answer, but the words evaporated in my throat.

“I think it depends on whether it would be realistic to think that this can result in something.”

He dropped my hand and rubbed his face. The film came back from the commercial and we fell into what must have been the most embarrassing silence in the history of the world.

Finally, he took my hand back and kissed the palm.

“Okay, boy. I can manage not to fight all the time.”

I watched his fingers intertwined with mine. After what seemed like an eternity, I managed to say:

“I’m sorry. All of this still seems a little too new.”

“For me too.”

We fell silent again and continued to watch the movie, laughing in the same scenes and slowly changing positions until I was practically lying on top of him. Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at the clock on the wall and mentally calculated the hours we had left to spend together in L.A.. Fourteen.

There were fourteen hours left in that perfect reality where I could have Harry anytime I wanted, and it didn't have to be in secret, either because of an uncontrollable desire, or using anger as our only way of doing foreplay.

“What's your favorite movie?” He asked, turning my body over and hovering over me. His skin was very hot and I wanted to remove my shirt, but I didn't want him to move an inch, not even for a second.

"I like comedies," I started. “I like  _ The Clerk _ , but I also like  _ Everybody Almost Dead, Lead, The Seven Suspects _ , things like that. But I have to say that my favorite movie of all time is probably  _ Rear Window. _ ”

“Because of Jimmy Stewart or Grace Kelly?” He asked, leaning down to kiss a trail of fire on my neck.

“Both, but probably more because of Grace Kelly.”

“I understand. You have a lot in common with Grace Kelly” his hand went up and tidied a lock of hair that insisted on falling over my eyes. "I heard that she also had a dirty mouth," he added.

“You love my dirty mouth.”

“It is true. But I prefer it when it's full” he said, with the appropriate smile on his face.

“You know, if you shut up once in a while you would be almost perfect.”

“But then I would be a silent underwear ripper, which I think is a lot weirder than a underwear ripper boss.”

I dissolved into laughter as he tickled my ribs.

"I know you love it," he growled. 

"Harry," I said, trying to sound uninterested, "what do you do with them?"

He gave me a dark, provocative look.

“I keep them in a safe place.”

“Can I see it?”

“No.”

“Why?” I asked, squinting at him.

“Because you're going to try to get them back.”

“Why would I want them back? You tore them all up!”

He smirked, but did not answer.

“Why do you do that, after all?”

He studied me for a moment, obviously considering an answer. Finally, he propped himself up on his elbow and put his face close to mine.

“For the same reason you like it when I do it.”

Then he got up and pulled me into the room.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I'd like to start saying a big (BIG) thank you to everyone who's still showing up to read this story. I know I haven't updated as much as you guys deserve, but there's really a lot going on and I couldn't get around here as much as I wished to. "Beautiful Bastard" has reached 100 kudos last night, I've been receiving the loveliest comments and it means a lot to me! 
> 
> You guys are the best!  
> Thank you so, so much!

**• Harry •**

I had experience with negotiations, bargains and bluffs. And there I was, in the unusual position of betting everything I had, but when it came to Louis, I didn't care. It was all or nothing.

“Are you happy to come home? You've been gone for almost three weeks.”

He shrugged, taking off my underwear without ceremony and wrapping my cock in a warm hand with a familiarity that made me feel prickly in the chest.

“I had fun around here, you know.”

I didn't rush opening every button on his shirt and kissed every inch of skin that appeared.

“How much time do we have before the flight?”

"Thirteen hours," he said, without looking at his watch. The response was really quick and, from the way his cock was hard when I slid my fingers inside his boxer, he was not at all anxious to get out of that hotel room.

I tickled his thighs, teased his tongue with my mouth, and rubbed my cock over his leg until I felt him arch in my direction. His legs slid around my waist and he stretched his hand across my chest as I entered, determined to make him come as many times as I could before the sun came up. For me, there was nothing in the world but his soft skin and the warm air of his moans on my neck. Again and again I moved on top of him, silent in my desire, lost inside him. His hips danced with mine, his chest pressed against mine. I wanted to say to him:  _ What we have is the most incredible thing I've ever felt in my life. Do you feel it too? _

But I had no words. I had only instinct, the taste of him on my tongue and the memory of his laughter echoing in my head. I wanted to keep that sound forever. I wanted to be everything to him: his lover, his fight partner, his friend. In that bed, I could be anything.

"I don't know how to do that," he said at a strange moment, almost coming and squeezing me so hard that I thought it would leave marks. But I knew what he was talking about, because it was painful to satisfy that desire so much, but to have no idea what would happen next. The way I wanted him made me feel full and hungry at the same time, and my brain didn't know how to react. So, instead of answering or saying what I thought we should do, I kissed his neck, put my fingers on his waist and said:

“Me neither, but I'm not ready to let it end yet.”

"It's so good..." he whispered against my throat and I groaned in silent agony, completely unable to produce a word in response.

I thought I was going to howl.

I kissed him.

I penetrated deeply, pressing him against the mattress.

It seemed infinite, that explosive ecstasy. His body rose to meet mine, his mouth wet, hungry, bit and caressed.

* * *

I woke up when my pillow was pulled and Louis babbled something incoherent about spinach and hot dogs.

The man had a restless sleep and was now talking in his sleep.

I ran my greedy hand over his ass before I rolled over and looked at my watch. It was a little after five, and I knew we had to get up to catch the plane at eight. As much as I hated to leave our little den of sins, I remembered that I had hardly worked all week and started to feel guilty about the career I was essentially neglecting. In the past decade, my career had been my life, and although I felt more comfortable with the effect that Louis had on my balance, I needed to regain focus. It was time to go home, put on the big boss uniform and get to work.

The morning sun had already invaded the room and covered his pale skin with an opaque light. He was lying on his side, facing me, his hair spread across the pillow. His face was practically whole on my pillow.

I understood his hesitation to decide how our relationship would work when we were back to reality. That bubble in Los Angeles had been incredible, in part because there weren't all those points that complicated our relationship at first: his job at Styles Media, my role in the family business, his scholarship, our strong temperaments. Although I wanted to force a definition of this thing between us and set expectations according to which I could act, his attitude - with much more caution - was probably the best thing to do.

The blankets had been on the floor since the night before, so I took the chance to look at his naked body. I could definitely get used to waking up to that man next to me in bed. But, unfortunately, we wouldn't have a morning like that in our immediate future. I tried to wake him by placing a hand on his shoulder, then I kissed him on the neck, until I finally pinched his ass. He slapped my arm hard before I could pull him back. And I couldn't even tell if he was awake or not.

“Idiot.”

“We have to get up and go. We need to be at the airport in an hour.”

Louis rolled over and looked at me. His face was full of pillow marks and his eyes were unfocused. He didn't mind covering his body like he had the first day, but he wasn't smiling all the time either.

"Okay," he said. He sat on the bed, drank water and kissed my shoulder before getting up. I watched him enter the bathroom, but he never looked back. I didn't exactly need a quickie in the morning, but I wouldn't mind being a little cuddled, maybe even talking in bed for a while.

_ So you probably shouldn't have pinched his ass. _

He didn't leave, and after gathering my things I knocked on the bathroom door.

“I'm going to my room to take a shower and pack.”

He was silent for a few moments.

“Right.”

“Can you say anything other than  _ "right" _ ?”

I heard his laughter on the other side of the door.

“I think I already said "idiot" today.”

I had to smile.

But when I approached the bedroom door to leave, he left the bathroom and went straight into my arms, wrapping my body around him and pressing his face to my neck. He was still naked, and when he looked up, his eyes looked a little red.

"Sorry," he said, kissing my chin before pulling me in for a longer, deeper kiss. “I get nervous before I fly.”

He turned and went back to the bathroom before I could look him in the eye to find out if he was telling the truth or not.

The next room looked too tidy, even for a luxury hotel. It didn't take me long to pack, shower and get dressed. But something kept me from going back to Louis' room anytime soon. It was like he needed time alone to deal with whatever internal battle he was fighting. I could tell he was in conflict, but which side would he choose in the end? Would he decide to try? Or would you decide that it was not possible to balance the work and the two of us?

When impatience won over chivalry, I grabbed my suitcase, went out into the hall and knocked on his bedroom door.

He opened it, dressed like a naughty businessman, and it took me about eight years to shift my eyes from the curves of his legs to the sharp cut on the collar of his shirt and then, finally, to his face.

“Hello, beautiful.”

He showed a slightly forced smile.

“Hi.”

“Ready to go?” I asked, starting to approach to get his bag. The sleeve of my suit scraped on his bare arm and, before I could understand what was going on, he grabbed my tie and pushed me against the wall, kissing me intensely.

I froze, surprised.

“Hey, calm down!” I murmured in his lips.

With a hand splayed across my chest, he started to remove his tie and groaned in my mouth when he felt my cock grow up against him. His nimble fingers tossed his tie on the floor, but then I remembered we had a flight to catch.

“Louis…” I said, trying to get away from his kisses. “Babe, we don't have time for this.”

“I don't care” he was all lips and teeth, sucking on my neck, with hungry hands taking off my belt and grabbing my dick.

I cursed as I lost my breath, completely unable to resist the way he took my pants, pulled and pulled off my clothes.

“Shit, Loueh, you are totally wild.”

He spun me around and pressed my back against the wall, I buried my hand inside his shirt and squeezed his muscles tight. His desire was contagious, and my fingers splashed on the softness of his nipples, the firmness of his chest that he pushed back against my hand. I unzipped his pants and, with just one hand, pushed the fabric until it was halfway up his thighs, pulled the boxer down and wrapped his cock around with one hand, massaging slowly.

I needed to feel him right away.

"Say you want me," he said, pronouncing the words through his labored breathing. He was shaking and his eyes were closed tightly.

“You have no idea. I want everything you have to give me.”

"Say we can do this." He lowered my pants to his knees and, in a completely desperate and awkward way, I wrapped my leg around his waist.

When his cock slid inside me, I covered his mouth to drown out the high-pitched sound he made. It almost sounded like a moan.

Almost a sob.

I pulled away, examining his face. Tears were streaming from his eyes.

_ “Louis?” _

"No," he said, sobbing and leaning down to kiss my neck.

He was hiding. With one hand, he tried to make space between our bodies and reach for my cock. It seemed like a strange kind of desperation. We had done it before, we had done it in a hurry, but that was something completely different.

“Stop” I hugged him and pressed him against the wall. “Lou, what are you doing?”

Finally, he opened his eyes, focusing on my collar. He opened a button, and then opened another.

“I just need to feel you one more time.”

“What do you mean by  _ "one more time” _ ?”

He didn't look me in the eye and said nothing more.

“Louis, when we leave this room, we can leave everything here. Or we can take everything with us. I believe we can find a way... do you believe?”

He nodded and bit his lip until his flesh turned white. When he released it, a tempting red color appeared again.

“I want to believe.”

“I already said, I want more than this. I want to be with you. I want to be your lover” I swore and grabbed my own hair.  _ “I'm falling for you, Louis.” _

He bent down, laughing, with relief spreading through his body. When he straightened up again, he pulled me close again and pressed his lips to my face.

“Are you serious?”

“Totally serious. I want to be the only guy who has sex with you against the window, and I also want to be the first person you see when you wake up in the morning, after stealing my pillow. I also want to be the person who buys you ice cream when you are sick. We only have a few more months before this is no longer potentially complicated.”

So, with my mouth against his and my hands on his face, I think he finally started to understand.

"Promise me that you will take me to bed when we get back," he said.

“I promise.”

“To your bed.”

“For sure, my bed. My bed is huge, with a headboard where I can tie you up and slap you for being so ridiculous.”

And in that moment, we were completely perfect.

In the hallway, after a last kiss on the palm of his hand, I released him and followed him into the lobby.


	21. Chapter 21

**• Louis •**

Harry went to the car while I checked out at reception. I took one last look around the lobby, wanting to record every memory of the trip. When I left, I saw Harry standing next to the valet. My heart was beating fast. I was still anesthetized. I understood that he had given me a lot of chances to say what I wanted, but I had been very unsure about the possibility of us being together. Apparently, he was braver than me.

_ I'm falling for you. _

My stomach turned over deliciously.

Mr. Gugliotti caught sight of Harry and approached. They shook hands and exchanged amenities. I wanted to walk up to them and join the conversation as an equal, but I was afraid that I couldn't hide what was going on in my heart, and that my feelings for Harry were stamped on my face. Mr. Gugliotti looked at me, but apparently failed to recognize me out of context. He looked back at Harry, nodding at something he said, and that lack of recognition made me hesitate even more. I was not yet someone to be noticed. The checkout papers, Harry's to-do list and his briefcase were in my hand. I was just someone on the periphery: an intern.

Keeping away, I tried to enjoy the last moments of the ocean breeze. Harry's deep voice reached my ears through the few meters that separated us.

“Looks like you offered some good ideas. I'm glad that Louis had a chance to participate in this exercise.”

Nodding, Mr. Gugliotti said:

“Louis is smart. Everything went well.”

“I am sure that soon we will be able to make a conference call to begin the process of delivering the material.”

_ Exercise? Begin? _ Wasn't that what I had done? I had given Gugliotti the contracts for him to sign and send back by mail.

“Good. I'll ask Annie to call and set the dates. I would like to read the terms with you. I still didn't feel free to sign them.”

“Of course.”

My heart sped up when the spiral of panic and humiliation spread through my veins. It was as if the meeting I had held was merely an exercise for me, and the real work would take place between these two men, back in the real world.

Was this entire conference just a big fantasy? I felt ridiculous when I remembered the details I had told Harry, how proud I had been to take care of this job while he was sick.

“Gemma mentioned that Louis received a scholarship from JT Miller. This is fantastic. Will he stay on Styles Media after he finishes?” Asked Gugliotti.

“Still do not know. He's a great boy. But it definitely needs to mature a little bit.”

I suddenly lost my breath, as if my air had been sucked in all the way out. Harry had to be kidding. I knew, without Desmond having to tell me (and he did, several times), that I could get the job I wanted when I finished my MBA. I had worked at Styles Media for several years, working hard to keep my job and get my degree. I knew some of the accounts better than the people who managed them. Harry knew that.

Gugliotti laughed.

“Mature or not, I would hire him in a heartbeat. He did very well at the meeting, Harry.”

“Of course he did. Who do you think trained him? The meeting with you was a great opportunity to give him some experience, so I appreciate your help. He will certainly do well at any job he has. When he’s ready.”

He didn't sound like any Harry Styles I knew. It was not the lover who had been with me a few minutes before, grateful and proud of me for taking his place when needed. Nor was he the Beautiful Bastard, unwillingly praising. This was someone completely different. Someone who called me "boy" and acted as if he had done me a favor.

I felt my face burn with rage and went back to the hotel lobby, suddenly feeling like there was not enough oxygen anywhere.

_ Mature? Did I do well at the meeting? Was he my mentor? In which universe? _

I stared at the feet of people passing in front of me, entering and leaving through the revolving door. Why did I feel like my stomach had disappeared, leaving nothing but a hole full of acid?

I had worked in the business world long enough to know how it all works. The people at the top don't get there sharing credit. They get there with big promises, big claims and even bigger egos.

_ "In my first six months at Styles Media, I got a sixty million dollar account." _

_ "I managed L'Oréal's 100 million dollar skin portfolio." _

_ "I designed the current Nike campaign." _

_ "I transformed a country company into a major national company." _

I always felt that he praised me against his will, and that is why I liked to prove that he was wrong, I liked to exceed his expectations, almost to irritate him. But now that we had admitted that our feelings had turned into something else, he wanted to rewrite history. He was never a mentor to me, I never needed him. Harry hadn't driven me to success - in fact, until that trip, he had always stood in my way, acting like a prick to try and get me to quit. I had fallen in love despite all this, and now he was throwing me under a bus just to apologize for missing a meeting.

My heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

“Louis?”

I lifted my head and looked at his confused expression.

“The car is ready. I thought you were going to meet me outside.”

I blinked, rubbed my eye as if something had fallen in it, and not as if I was about to cry in the hotel lobby.

“Okay” I straightened up, picked up my things and looked him in the face. “I forgot.”

Of all the lies I had ever told him, that was the worst, because he realized. And from the way his eyebrows came together and he approached, with anxious eyes and trying to understand, he had no idea why I needed to lie about something like that.

“Are you okay, beautiful?”

I blinked again. I had loved it when he called me that twenty minutes earlier, but now it felt wrong.

“Just tired.”

Again, he knew I was lying, but this time he didn't insist. He put his hand on my back and led me to the car.


	22. Chapter 22

**• Harry •**

I knew that people sometimes change their moods without warning. I even knew people that could get lost in thought imagining thirty years in the future or get angry about something I was supposed to do. But that was not what seemed to be happening to Louis, and he was never that type of person. I had seen him angry before. Hell, I had already seen him angry in every way possible: angry, slightly irritated, almost violent. But I had never seen him hurt.

He buried himself in documents on the short trip to the airport. Then he excused himself and walked away to call his mother while we waited at the gate. On the plane, he fell asleep almost instantly, ignoring my innuendo to meet in the plane's bathroom for a high-altitude sex session. He stayed awake just long enough to refuse lunch, even though he hadn't eaten since breakfast. When he woke up during landing, he stared out the window instead of looking at me.

“Will you tell me what's the matter?”

He said nothing for an eternity and my heart started to race. I tried to think of all the times when I could have screwed up. Sex with Louis in bed. More sex with Louis. Orgasms for Louis. He had several orgasms, to be honest. So I thought that was not the problem. I had woken up, showered, basically confessed my love. Hotel lobby, Gugliotti, airport. I stopped. The conversation with Gugliotti had left me a little bad. I didn't know why I had acted like a possessive idiot, but I couldn't deny that Louis did this to me. He had been great at the meeting, as I knew he would be, but I would never let him take a step back from his career by going to work with a guy like Gugliotti after he finished his MBA. He would probably treat him like a piece of meat and look at his ass all day.

"I heard what you said." His voice sounded so quiet that it took me a while to understand that he had said something, and it took me even longer to process what he had said. My stomach churned.

“What did I say?”

He smiled, turning his face to finally look at me. And, what the hell. He was crying.

“For Gugliotti.”

“I seemed possessive. I’m sorry.”

"You seemed possessive..." he murmured, turning back to the window. “You belittled me... you made me look naive! You acted like the meeting was just a training exercise. I feel ridiculous for the way I described the meeting to you yesterday, thinking it had been something important.”

I put my hand on his arm, laughing a little.

“Guys like Gugliotti have fragile egos. He needs to feel that the executives are listening to what he says. You did everything we needed. But he thinks he needs to receive the official contract from my hands.”

“But this is such an absurd. And you perpetuated that, using me as a pawn.”

I blinked, confused. I had done exactly what he said. But that's how you play the game, isn't it?

“You are my intern.”

A harsh laugh escaped his lips and he turned back to me.

“Right. For all this time you have always cared about the progress of my career.”

“Of course!”

“And how do you know that I need to mature? Until yesterday, you had barely looked at my work.”

"That's not true at all," I shook my head, starting to get a little irritated. “I know that because I watch everything you do. I don't want to put too much pressure on you to do more than you can now, which is why I'm keeping track of Gugliotti's account. But you did a great job there, and I was very proud of you.”

He closed his eyes and laid his head on the back of the seat.

“You called me  _ boy _ .”

“Did I?” I tried to remember the conversation and realized that he was right. "I don't think I wanted him to look at you like a super-hot business man he could hire and then try to get into bed."

“ _ God, Harry. You are so stupid! _ Maybe he wanted to hire me because I work well!”

“I apologize. I'm acting like a possessive boyfriend.”

“This possessive boyfriend thing is not new to me. The problem is, you're acting like you've done me a favor. You are being condescending. I think now is not the best time to get into more of this typical intern trainee interaction.”

“I already said that I think you did an incredible job at the meeting.”

He looked at me and his face started to turn red.

“You never would have said that before. You would have said  _ "Good. Now get back to work" _ . And only. And with Gugliotti you acted like I was your  _ protégé _ . Before, you would have pretended you didn't even know me.”

“Do we really need to discuss why I was an idiot before? You weren't exactly the nicest kid in the world, either. And why remember that now?”

“I'm not talking about how you were an idiot before. I'm talking about how you're doing it now. You are trying to make up for it. That's exactly why you shouldn't have sex with your boss. You were a good boss before... let me do my thing and you did yours. Now have you become the sensitive mentor who calls me "boy" after I saved your skin? Unbelievable!”

“Louis…”

“I can handle you being a big fool, Harry. I'm used to it, I even expect it. That's how we work. Because under all the ugly faces and slamming doors, I knew you respected me. But the way you acted today ... puts a new barrier that didn't exist before” he shook his head and looked out the window again.

“I think you're overreacting.”

"Maybe," he said, bending to pick up the phone from his bag. “But I worked very hard to get where I am... am I risking all this now?”

“We can have both, Louis. For a few more months, we can work together and be together. And this happening today? This is part of the maturing of a relationship.”

"I'm not so sure," he said, blinking and looking at nothing. “I'm just trying to do the right thing, Harry. I've never questioned my own worth before, even when I thought you might be questioning. And then, I thought you saw who I really am, but then you looked down on me like that…” he lifted his head, showing the pain in his eyes. “I don't think I want to start questioning myself right now. After working so hard.”

* * *

The plane landed with a strong jolt, but it didn't shake me as much as the words he said. I had already led discussions with the heads of some of the biggest finance departments in the world. I had already faced executives who thought they could easily get over me. I could argue with that man until the end of the days and feel more man with every word. But at that moment, I couldn't find a single word to say.

To say that I was unable to sleep that night would be an understatement. I couldn't even get it right. Each flat surface seemed to bear Louis' mark, even though he never entered my house. Just the fact that we talked about it - and that I planned to bring him there on our first night after the trip - made me feel his presence everywhere.

I called him, but got no answer. Okay, it was three in the morning when I called, but I knew he wasn't sleeping, either. His silence was compounded because I knew he felt the same as I did. I knew he was in it as deeply as I was. But he should think otherwise. There seemed to be an eternity for tomorrow to arrive.

* * *

I arrived at work at six o'clock, intending to enter before he arrived. I grabbed coffee for both of us and updated my schedule to save him the trouble. I faxed the contract to Gugliotti, saying that the version he saw in Los Angeles was the final one, and that what Louis had presented was valid. I gave him two days to return the signatures.

And then, I waited

At eight o'clock, my father came into the office, with Gemma following him behind. It was common to see my father with a frown, but it was rarely because of me. And Gemma never looked angry. But this time they both seemed to want to kill me.

“What did you do?” my father threw a sheet of paper on my table.

My blood seemed to have turned to ice.

“What is this?”

“It's Louis's resignation letter. He delivered it to Liam this morning.”

A full minute passed before I could speak. In that time, the only sound came from my sister, saying:

“Haz, what happened?”

"I blew it," I said, pressing my hands to my eyes.

My father's face returned to normal and he sat down - in the same chair where Louis had also sat down, opened his legs and started to touch himself a month before, while I tried to keep my composure on the phone.  _ God, how did I let the situation come to this? _

“Tell me what happened” my father's voice became very low: a calm before the storm. I loosened my tie because I felt I was suffocating with the weight of my own chest.  _ Louis left me. _

“We are together. Or we  _ were _ .”

Gemma shouted  _ "I knew it!" _ and my dad yelled  _ "You what?" _

"But not before Los Angeles," I said, trying to calm them down. “Before Los Angeles we were just…”

“Having sex?” Completed Gemma, receiving a hard look from my father.

“Yes. We were just…”

A pang of pain seemed to pierce my chest.  _ His expression when I leaned over to kiss him. The way I took his lip between my teeth. His laugh in my mouth. _

“And, as you two know, I was an idiot. But he returned it… kinda” I said. “And in LA, that turned into something else. Shit” I reached for the letter, but gave up. “Did he really resign?”

My father nodded, with an utterly enigmatic expression on his face. This was his superpower: the more emotional he was, the less emotions he showed.

"That's why we have our fraternization policy, Harry," he said, softening his voice when he said my name. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

"I know." I rubbed my hands over my face, motioned for Gemma to sit down, and then told her all the details of when I had that food poisoning, the meeting with Gugliotti and how Louis had taken care of everything so well. I made it clear that we had basically decided to be together, before I met Gugliotti in front of the hotel.

"You are such a stupid son of a bitch," said my sister when I finished speaking. I could only agree. After a harsh sermon and the promise that we would discuss all the ways I had screwed up again, my father returned to his office to ask Louis to work with him until the end of the internship. If Louis decided to stay with the company after the internship, he could easily become one of the most important members of our marketing team. But my father's concern was not just about Styles Media. It turns out that if Louis left, he would have less than three months to find a new internship, learn the job and prepare a new project to present to the examining board. Because of the influence of banking on business school, the company's assessment would be necessary for Louis to graduate with honors and receive a letter of recommendation from the CEO of JT Miller.

This could leverage or destroy the beginning of your career.

Gemma and I sat in complete silence. She looked at me and I looked out the window. I could almost feel how badly she wanted to kick my ass. My dad came back to my office, took the resignation letter and folded it three times. I still hadn't been able to read it. It was a typed letter, and for the first time since I met Louis, I wanted to see his ridiculous handwriting instead of a printed, impersonal sheet in Times New Roman font.

“I said that this company values him very much, that this family loves him and that we want him to stay” my father stopped and his eyes fell on me. “He said it was all the more reason to want to become independent.”


	23. Chapter 23

**• Harry •**

London became an alternative universe, in which Louis Tomlinson no longer worked for Styles Media. He had resigned. He had moved away from one of SMG's biggest projects. He had moved away from me.

I took the Papadakis files out of his drawer. The contract had been prepared by the legal department while we were in Los Angeles, he just had to sign it. Louis could spend the last two months of his MBA perfecting his presentation to the examining board. Instead, he would start all over again at another company.

How could he have endured everything I did before, but give up now? Was it really that important that I treat you as an equal with a man like Gugliotti? Would he sacrifice everything between us for that?

With a groan, I suspected that the reason for asking these questions was also the reason for him to leave me. I thought it would be possible to maintain our relationship and our careers, but that was because I had already proved my worth. It turns out that he was still the intern. All he wanted was my guarantee that his career would not suffer because of our recklessness. But I did just the opposite.

I was surprised that the office was not on fire with the story of what I had done, but it seemed that only my father and Gemma knew. Louis has always kept our secret. I wondered if Liam knew and if he was still talking to Louis.

I soon had an answer. A few days after London changed, Liam came into my office without knocking on the door.

“This situation is completely stupid.”

I looked up, lowered the contract I was reading, and stared at his face long enough for him to shudder. So I said:

“I want to remind you that this situation is none of your business.”

“As his friend, it is.”

“As an employee of Styles Media, and as an employee of Gemma, no, it is not.”

He looked at me for a moment and then nodded.

“I know. I would never tell anyone, if that's what you're saying.”

“Of course that's what I'm saying. But I'm also talking about your behavior. I don't want to see you invade my room without knocking.”

He looked sorry, but he was unmoved by my stern look. I began to understand why he and Louis were so friendly: they were both strong-willed and fiercely loyal.

“Roger that.”

“May I ask why you are here? Did you talk to him?”

“Yes.”

I waited. I didn't want to pressure him to become my confidant, but God, I wanted to squeeze that neck to pull out every detail he knew.

“He received a job offer at Studio Marketing.”

I let out a tense sigh. It was a decent company, however small. A company that was growing and that had some good junior executives, but real motherfuckers at the top.

“Who is he working with?”

“A guy named Julian.”

I closed my eyes to hide my reaction. Troy Julian was on our board: he was an egocentric man with a reputation for going after young girls and boys. Louis knew that. What then was he thinking?

_ Think, you idiot. _

He was probably thinking that Julian would have the resources to give him a substantial project, which he could present in three months.

“What is his project?”

Liam walked to the door and closed it. “Sanders' dog food.

I punched the table. Fury washed over my mind and I closed my eyes to control myself and not take it out on my sister's assistant.

“This is a very small account.”

“He's just an MBA student, sir. Styles. Of course, it's a small account. Only someone in love would let him work on a ten-year millionaire contract” without looking back at me, he turned and left.

* * *

Louis did not answer his cell phone or home phone, nor did he answer any email from me. He didn't call me, didn't stop by the office, or give any indication that he wanted to talk to me. But when your chest hurts so bad that you can't even sleep, you end up doing things like looking for your intern's address, driving there at five in the morning on a Saturday and waiting for him to leave.

And when he didn't show up after almost a full day, I convinced the building's doorman that he was his cousin and that he was concerned about his health. He accompanied me to the apartment and stood behind me while I knocked on the door.

My heart was almost out of my mouth. I heard someone moving inside, approaching the door. I could practically feel his body inches from mine, separated only by the wood. I could see a shadow moving through the peephole. And then, silence.

“Louis.”

He didn't open the door. But he did not move away either.

“Babe, please open the door. I need to talk to you.”

After what felt like an hour, he said:

“I can't, Harry.”

I leaned my forehead against the door and put both hands on the wood. Having superpowers would be useful there. Hands of fire, sublimation, or even the ability to find the right thing to say. But now, that seemed impossible.

“I’m sorry.”

Silence.

“Louis...  _ God _ . I get it, right? Fight me for being a new kind of idiot. Tell me to go fuck myself. Do it the way you want... just don't disappear.”

Silence. He was still there. I could feel it.

“I miss you. Shit, _ I miss you so much _ . I'm sorry.”

“Harry, just... not now, right? I can't do that right now.”

Was he crying?

I hated not knowing.

“Hey, buddy” the doorman definitely sounded like this was the last place he wanted to be, and you could tell he was annoyed that I had lied. “That's not why you wanted to go up. He looks fine. Let's go.”

I went home and started drinking whiskey. For two weeks, I played pool at a bar and ignored my family. I said I was sick and I only got out of bed occasionally to grab a bowl of cereal, fill my glass or use the bathroom, where I looked at my reflection and showed the middle finger to myself. I was at my worst and, as I had never experienced anything like this before, I had no idea how to get out of this. My mom came in with some grocery shopping and left it at my door. My father sent daily messages with work updates.

Finally, Gemma came in with the only copy of my house keys, spilled a bucket of cold water on my head and then gave me some Chinese food. I ended up eating when she threatened to stick pictures of Louis on my house walls if I didn't leave this soon and get back to work. Over the next few weeks, Liam began to suspect that I was going crazy and that I needed a weekly update. He kept everything on a professional level, telling how Louis was doing in his new job with Julian. His project was going well. The Sanders people loved him. He had shown the campaign to the executives and received their endorsement. None of this surprised me. Louis was far better than anyone who worked for them.

Occasionally, Liam let out something else. "He went back to the gym", "He looks better", "He cut his hair a little shorter and it looked really nice", "We went out with the guys on Saturday night. I think he had fun, but he left early ".

_ "Because he was with someone?" _ , I wondered. So, I pushed that thought away. I couldn't even imagine going out with someone else. What we had was something very strong, and I was pretty sure he wasn't seeing anyone else either.

Updates were never enough. Why didn't Liam take some pictures hidden with his phone? I was hoping to run into Louis in a store or on the street. I got into HommeMystere a few times. But I haven't seen him for two months.

A month goes by when you're falling in love with the man you're having sex with. Two months becomes an eternity when the man you love leaves you behind.

So, when the day of Louis' presentation approached and Liam said that he was prepared and dealing with Julian with iron hands, but at the same time seemed "sad and less like himself", I finally took courage.

I sat down at my desk, opened the PowerPoint and the Papadakis file. Beside me, the phone rang. I considered not answering, because I just wanted to focus on that.

But it was an unknown number, and a large part of my brain wanted to think it could be Louis.

“This is Harry Styles.”

A strange laugh, carried in a tone of irony and an unknown accent, echoed on the other end of the line.

_ “Beautiful, you really are a bastard.” _


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I don't even know how to start *sobs*
> 
> This is the last official chapter for this story (25 is just a bonus) so I'll leave my official thanks here as well.
> 
> Thank you so, so much for all the love and support you guys given me. As I said before, when the idea of reuploading my stories first came to me, I had no idea that someone would actually care and have fun reading them. It means the world to me that you all did. Every comment, every subscription, bookmark, kudo. In such a hard time, you guys blessed me and welcomed me back in this fandom and I can't genuinely thank you all enough for this joy! Thanks for making my quarantine happier, hoppefully, I brought some happiness to yours.

**• Louis •**

Director Cheng and the other members of the examining board lined the room, greeting me amiably and taking their seats. I checked my notes, checked the connection between my laptop and the projector a third time, and waited for the last stragglers to enter the conference room. People filled glasses with cold water. Colleagues talked in a low voice. Some laughter echoed through the silence.

Colleagues.

I've never felt so isolated. Mr. Julian didn't even bother to show up to support my presentation. Big surprise.

The room looked like another conference room, in a building that was seventeen blocks away. I had been outside Styles Media Tower earlier that morning, silently thanking everyone inside for making me the person I am. And then I started walking, counting the blocks and trying to ignore the pain in my chest, knowing that Harry wouldn't be with me today, silent, fixing the cufflinks, eyes penetrating the calm outside.

I missed my project. I missed my co-workers. I missed Harry's demanding and merciless standards. But mostly, I missed the man he had become for me. I hated feeling that I had to choose between one Harry and the other and, in the end, not having any.

An assistant knocked on the door and stuck her head inside. She said to Mr. Cheng:

“I have some papers for Louis to sign first. We'll be back in a second.”

Without question, I followed her out of the room, waving my hands to calm my nerves.

_ You can do this, Louis. _

Twenty meager slides detailing a mediocre marketing campaign for a local dog food company. Easy.

I just had to go through it and then I could get out of London and start again somewhere far away. For the first time since I moved, London was looking like a completely strange place to me. Even so, I still hoped that the idea of leaving was the right decision. Instead of stopping at the assistant's desk, we walked down the hall to another conference room. She opened the door and motioned for me to step in front. But when I entered, instead of following me, she closed the door behind me, leaving me alone.

Or not so much.

She left me with Harry.

I felt my stomach evaporate and my chest sink into an empty space. He was standing by a wall with floor-to-ceiling windows on the other side of the room, wearing a navy blue suit and the purple tie I had given him for Christmas. He was holding a thick folder and his eyes looked dark and enigmatic.

“Hi” his voice failed that single syllable.

I swallowed, averting my eyes and begging my emotions to remain repressed. Getting away from Harry had been hell. Many times a day, I fantasized about going back to Styles Media, or seeing him entering my new cubicle, or meeting him at my door with a bag of HommeMystere dangling from his long, provocative finger.

But I didn't expect to find him there, and after so long without seeing him, even that miserable syllable almost broke me. I missed his voice, his mischievous smile, his lips and his hands. I missed the way he watched me, the way he waited for me, the way I could feel that he was falling in love.

Harry was there. And he looked very bad.

He had lost weight, and although he was well dressed and shaved, his clothes looked loose. It felt like he hadn't slept in weeks. I knew what that was like. There were black circles under his eyes and no sign of the characteristic smile. Instead, there was a mouth fixed on a straight line. The fire that I thought was part of his expression had simply gone out.

“What are you doing here?”

He raised his hand and ruffled his hair, completely ruining the pathetic hairstyle he had tried to make for the occasion. My heart beat faster at the sight of the messy threads that were so familiar.

“I'm here to tell you that you're an idiot for leaving Styles Media.”

My jaw dropped at the tone of his voice and a familiar rush of adrenaline warmed my veins.

“I was an idiot about many things. Thanks for coming. It was a really fun date” I turned to go.

"Wait," he said, his voice low and demanding. I felt old instincts and stopped, turning again. He got a little closer. “We were both idiots, Louis.”

“We agree on that. You are right to say that you worked hard to teach me. I learned to be an idiot with the biggest idiot of all. If I learned anything good, it was your father who taught it. That last sentence seemed to hit him where it hurt” he shuddered and took a step back. I had felt a million emotions in the past few months: a lot of anger, a little regret, frequent guilt, and even a little presumptuous pride, but I realized that what I said was not fair and I immediately regretted it. He had taught me a lot, even if sometimes involuntarily, and because of that I owed him a debt. But standing there in that big room, with the silence growing and involving us like a plague, I realized something that I had completely ignored until then: it was he who gave me the chance to work on the most important projects. He was the one who took me to all the meetings. He was the one who made me write the essential reports, make the difficult calls and organize the delivery of the most sensitive documents. He had acted as my mentor - and it mattered a lot to him.

I swallowed.

“I did not mean that.”

“I know. I can see it on your face.” He rubbed his mouth. “But that's partly true. I don't deserve credit for being so good at what you do. I think I would like to have a little credit anyway, since I'm an egocentric. But also because I find you really inspiring.”

The lump in my throat started to spread, preventing my ability to breathe and pressing on my stomach. I reached for a nearby chair and repeated:

“Why are you here, Harry?”

“Because if you screw up that presentation, I will personally make sure you never work for a big company again.”

This was not what I expected to hear and my anger came back with all my might.

“I won't ruin this, you bastard. I'm ready.”

“This is not the presentation I'm talking about. I have his slides and Papadakis material here” he showed me a portable hard-drive and a folder. “And, if you do not make a great presentation, I will finish you.”

There was no malicious smile or wordplay. But, behind his threat, something else began to echo. Us. That was us.

"This is not mine," I gestured. “I didn't prepare Papadakis slides. I left the company before I got them in order.”

He shook his head like I was a total idiot.

“The contracts were prepared to be signed when you resigned. I prepared these slides using all of your work. That's what you're going to present today, not just any campaign for a dog food.”

It was humiliating that he threw it in my face, so I took a few steps forward.

“ _ Fuck you, Harry _ . I worked hard for you and I worked hard for Julian.”

“I will work hard at any company, whether selling dog food or organizing millionaire campaigns. You will not get here thinking that you can tell me how to take care of my career. You don't control me.” He approached.

“I don't want to control you.”

“Liar.”

“I want to help you.”

“I don't need your help.”

“Yes, Louis, you need it. Accept. Here's your job” he was close enough to touch me. Then he took another step forward. Close enough for me to feel the warmth of his body and the combined scent of his skin and herbal soap. “Please. You deserved it. And it will impress them much more.” A month ago, I wanted to present that account more than anything. It had been a part of my life for months. It was mine. I started to feel tears forming in the corner of my eyes.

“I don't want to be tied to you.”

“This is not a favor. I'm just giving back. I'm admitting that I screwed up. I'm saying you have one of the best business minds I've ever met” his eyes relaxed and his hand brushed a lock of my hair close to my ear. “You won't be tied to me. Unless you want it... in a completely different way.”

"I don't think I could ever work for you again," I said, forcing the words through the lump in my throat. I was using all my strength not to reach out and touch him.

“That's not what I meant. I'm saying I screwed up like your boss” he swallowed nervously and took a deep breath. “And I really screwed up as a lover. I need you to accept these slides. And I need you to take me back.”

I looked at his face.

“I need to get back to the conference room.”

“No, you don't have to. They're busy” Harry looked at his watch. “About a minute ago, I asked Gemma to call Cheng with some distraction to give me time to tell you two things: first, that you are an idiot, and second, that I want another chance with you.”

A smile started to open on my face and I had to bite my lip to avoid showing my surprise. Harry's eyes burned victoriously.

"I appreciate what you're doing," I said carefully. “I worked a lot on this account and I really feel like it's mine. If you don't mind, I would like the examining board to see the details of the Papadakis you brought. But even so, I will present the Sanders account. He considered my proposal, his eyes moving over my face. A muscle in his chin trembled, a clear sign of impatience.”

“Right. Present it to me now. Try to convince me that you are not committing suicide.” Straightening my body, I said:

“The campaign is based on the Top Chef program. But each episode, or ad, will show a different ingredient and will have a challenge to create a high-end dish for pets.” Harry's eyes narrowed, but he smiled sincerely.

“It's a smart idea, Louis.”

I was proud of his honesty and relished the moment.

“Not so much. That's the joke. Sanders' ingredients are basic: good meat. Simple grains. Dogs don't care if the food is fancy. They want meat. With bone. My father gave gourmet food to his dogs every day, with brown rice and wheat grass. I am not kidding. And on their birthday, he gave away a cheap bone full of meat. It is the owner who cares about the food being gourmet. Not the dogs.”

His smile widened.

“It's a way to make fun of ourselves for pampering our animals and encouraging that side of us that treats them as part of the family. Sanders is a bone-flavored food full of meat, which you can use to pamper your dog every day. The "judges" will always choose the Sanders recipe.”

“You got it.”

“Run a campaign? That was the goal.”

“Yes, but that I knew you could do. I mean the way you presented it to me. You convinced me.”

I laughed, recognizing a compliment from Harry when I saw one.

“Thanks.”

“Take me back, Lou. Tell me right now that you will accept me.”

I laughed louder and rubbed my hands over my face.

“Always such an asshole boss.”

“Are you going to pretend you don't miss me? You also look torn, you know? Niall called me last night while I organized the slides…”

My jaw dropped.

_ “Niall called you?” _

“... and told me you were in the worst shape and that I needed to pull myself together and go after you. I said I was already doing this. I would do it anyway, but his call made it easy for me to come here to beg.”

"You don't know how to beg for anything," I said, smiling this time. Harry licked his lips, looking down at my mouth.

“Probably not. Want to teach me?”

“You can try. I want to see you kneel.”

“With all due respect, I will have to ask you to get screwed, Mr. Tomlinson.”

“Only if you beg.”

His eyes widened and, before he could say anything, I took the Papadakis folder from his hand and left.

* * *

I entered the conference room with Harry right behind me. The buzz stopped immediately. I handed the folder to Director Cheng and he flipped through Papadakis' documents. Then he smiled.

“How did you manage to finish two projects?”

I babbled a few syllables, completely unprepared for that question.

"He's efficient," said Harry, walking around me and taking a seat at the table. “When we finished the Papadakis account, we suggested that he accept a short internship at another company until he finished his MBA. After all, we expect him to remain at Styles Media in the immediate future.” I almost couldn't hide my surprise.

_ What the hell was he talking about? _

“Fantastic!” Said an old man from across the table. “Working with Papadakis?”

Harry nodded.

“Yes, together with my father. He needs someone to manage that account. Louis is the most obvious choice, if he accepts.”

I had to swallow thousands of different reactions. The first was irritation, for he brought it up in front of the examining board. But in the middle of that there was also gratitude, excitement, pride. Harry would have a lot to hear after all of this.

"Well, then, let's start," said Cheng, leaning back in his chair.

I picked up my laser pointer and walked to the front of the room, feeling like the floor was made of gelatin. Sitting near the directors' desk, Harry cleared his throat, getting my attention. I would have to ask about it later. For I was almost sure that, just before I started to speak, he had moved his lips saying "I love you".

_ Sneaky bastard. _

* * *

They said that my presentation was worthy of entering the company brochure, website and newsletter. I was asked to sign some papers, pose for photos and shake hands. They even offered me a job at JT Miller.

"He already has a job," said Harry, pulling me aside. He stared at me, without a voice, as everyone finally left the room.

"So, about that..." I said, trying to look angry. I was still high because of the presentation, the discussion, the whole day. Having Harry close enough to kiss him wasn't bad either.

“Please don't say no. I kind of ruined my dad's surprise. He will call you tonight.”

“Is he really going to offer me the job?”

“Will you accept?”

I shrugged, feeling it was time to play a little charm.

“Who knows? Now I just want to celebrate.”

"You were fantastic today." He leaned over and kissed my cheek.

“Thank you. It was the most fun I had in weeks.”

“And the documents I got were good too, right?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Yes, but you made a crucial mistake.”

His face closed.

“What?”

“You admitted that you know how to use  _ PowerPoint _ .”

With a laugh, he took my laptop out of my hands and placed it on the chair behind him, approaching with a dark smile.

“I used to make slides for my boss. I was an intern too, you know.”

My skin prickled all over.

“Did your boss yell at you?”

“Sometimes” he ran a finger along my arm.

“Did he criticize your handwriting?”

"Constantly," he leaned over and kissed the corner of my mouth.

“Did your boss kiss you?”

“My father liked to shake hands, you know.”

I laughed, sliding my hands inside his suit so I could hug him fully.

“Well, I'm not your intern anymore.”

“No, you are my colleague.”

I groaned, loving the sound of that word.

_ “And my lover?” _

“Yes” my voice shook when I said that single syllable, and suddenly I completely understood the expression  _ "drown in relief" _ . I was sure Harry could feel my heart beating wildly against his chest. He bit my ear.

“I will have to make new excuses to take you to the conference room and have sex with you against the window.” Heat ran through my veins, heating my blood.

"But you don't need an excuse to take me home."

Harry kissed my face and pressed a single soft kiss to my lips.

“Louis?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“This flirtation we do is very good and such, but I'm serious when I say that you can't leave me again. It almost ended me.”

My chest seemed to expel all the air from my lungs with that thought.

“I don't think I could do it. I don't want to be away from you either.”

“But you need to give me a chance to fix the things I screwed up. You know, sometimes I'm an idiot.”

“Sometimes?”

He whispered, almost roaring:

“And I like to rip underwear.”

I took a lock of hair off his forehead.

“And save it later. Don't forget that weird habit.”

"But I love you," he said, looking at me with wide eyes. “And I practically became friends with the salespeople at HommeMystere. I spent a lot of time at the store whining while you were away. And I'm also sure that I'm the best fuck you've ever had. So, I hope it all makes up for my stupid side.”

“Done” I pulled him closer. "Come here," I slid my mouth against his, biting his lip. Grabbing the lapels of his suit, I turned him over and pressed him against the window, standing on tiptoe to get even closer, as close as possible.

“Are you becoming more demanding now that you are a professional?”

"Shut up and kiss me, you fool," I laughed in his mouth.

_ “Yes, boss.” _


	25. Beautiful Bastard II: Opening

**• Harry •**

My mother always told me to find someone who was equivalent to me, in every way.

"Never fall in love with someone who puts you first. Find someone who is as fearless and energetic as you are. Find someone who makes you want to be a better person."

I definitely met my better half, the guy who made my life hell and who lived just to argue with me. Someone whose mouth I wanted to cover with tape... or with a kiss.

My boyfriend, my former intern, Louis Tomlinson. A beautiful bastard.

At least, that was how I saw him when I was a blind idiot, hopelessly in love with him. I had certainly met the man who made me want to be a better person, and I was delighted with that fearless boy. It turns out that, on most days, I could barely spend more than two minutes alone with him.

_ My life in a nutshell: finally winning the boy; never getting to be with him for real. _


End file.
